She's Been Everybody Else's Girl, Maybe One Day She'll Be Her Own
by taralkariel
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has lost everything - her closest friends sided against her, the team has broken apart, her home as she goes into hiding, not sure who to trust. With no other options, she goes back to work, using her very specific skill set. Nightmares and doubts plague her until she remembers why she left the Red Room originally. (WinterWidow mentioned)
1. From the Shadows, She Calls

**A/N: I'm just going to keep writing what I want the Black Widow movie to look like until we actually get one. And having Nat go off on her own at the end of CACW seems like a great opportunity for her own story. There will be some references to WinterWidow, but that will be further explored in the next parts of the series. Please read and review!**

 **From in the shadows, she calls**

Catriona Liddell was the new secretary for Clifton McLaughlin, the chief partner in McLaughlin & Wilson. The firm had the reputation for getting the minimum penalty for their wealthy clients. There were other, darker rumors surrounding their business dealings, and Catriona had been hired to delve into them. Not by Mr. McLaughlin, of course – though he had hired her. How could he resist the young, pretty redhead when she interviewed? Notwithstanding the fact that her application had been tucked into the pile of prospective new hires without human resources getting their hands on it first.

With an eye for detail and a near-perfect memory of names and faces, Catriona made an excellent secretary for men of influence. She was discreet and anticipated Mr. McLaughlin's needs before he could think of them himself. During important meetings, she was available but never seemed underfoot. In a few short weeks, Mr. McLaughlin had stopped sending her out of the room during more sensitive discussions and had come to rely on her completely.

Natasha Romanoff was growing tired of Catriona Liddell, though she was certainly a useful person to be. The cover had excellent references and was helpful without being overly noticeable, so looking into older cases had been easy enough. Mr. McLaughlin's clients no longer glanced at her dubiously before telling their lawyer whatever it was that they had done, for which they needed his assistance.

A small flat above a shop was Catriona's residence – lodging was hard to find in the area on short notice, but the shopkeeper was glad to rent out the unused space to "such a pretty girl." She'd smiled, blushing, and thanked him. After work, it was a nice place to spend her time, even if most of that time was researching Mr. McLaughlin's clients and keeping a lookout for her next job. She wasn't exactly living hand to mouth, but she was actually cashing Catriona's checks, which hadn't been necessary before.

Of course, if cash flow really became a problem, she owned many properties, under various untraceable aliases, and could sell off a few. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Her skills were generally marketable, so she could pick her clients to some extent. She refused to do assassinations, kidnapping, or anything high-profile. The last thing she needed was for General Ross to hear that she was not only evading his questioning but obviously not retired.

She didn't know how things stood with him and what power he really had, should he choose to hunt her down. Stark had said they were coming for her, and her instincts for self-preservation took her very quickly off the grid. Multiple covers were always available, so she chose one to leave the country. The mess that Tony had gotten them into, worsened by Steve, was far from cleaned up. Captain America and his friends had broken out of custody and gone to ground – the news was less than clear on this point, but she could tell what wasn't being stated. General Ross wouldn't allow for that kind of bad press. How could he be trusted to run the task force if he couldn't even keep tabs on the good guys?

When this all started, her priority had been to keep everyone together. She had feared, and tried to tell Steve, that they would be sent out in the cold for their sometimes fractious team to be broken up entirely. Thus General Ross could take control of a no-longer-united group of people and use it for his own ends, whatever those were. But he hadn't anticipated how far it would go. Neither had she, frankly. Once Barnes got involved… Well, Steve had opposed the Accords from the start, and hearing how many civil liberties were being taken away from Wanda, himself, and of course Barnes, he'd revolted.

Natasha was raised in the Red Room, so personal freedoms were a new thing after she worked for SHIELD. But she'd always considered her rights secondary to serving – and had been a little relieved at the thought of some kind of oversight for the team. They did their best, but having no supervision was a problem. It was practically SHIELD's mission statement that those with higher than usual capabilities should be monitored. Tony Stark had been surveilled and tailed ever since he built his first suit, and the only reason Ultron had come into being was because the organization no longer had the resources to watch him carefully.

A part of her felt personally responsible for Stark going that far off the reservation. He had obviously been affected by the invasion – hadn't they all? – but had shown some real problems with coping when he'd dealt with the Mandarin and AIM. Rhodey had hinted at it when they'd talked, but she had failed to do anything about it. Because she was distracted. So, if she hadn't been the only one with SHIELD's priorities, then it wouldn't have mattered that she was distracted. Tony wouldn't have made Ultron, so the UN wouldn't have drafted the Sokovia Accords. And then she would still be at the facility with the team instead of a tiny apartment in Northern Scotland, hoping to make enough from this job to fund the next one. So, yeah, some kind of government oversight would have definitely been welcomed.

She understood Steve's side – he was Captain America, after all. Inalienable rights and all that. It was clear that all he wanted to do was serve, but he hated the idea of being used, of being a tool for a higher power instead of his own person. Maybe that was a sore spot because of what happened to Barnes, or maybe he'd always been that way. She didn't know. He didn't talk much about the time before he was turned into a superhero to give her insight into the man before the muscles.

After the Chitauri invaded, and she and Clint had followed Steve into a battle they hadn't really had any hope of winning, it had come as quite a shock that she was considered a hero, too. Maybe not quite the same level as Captain America or Iron Man, but no longer was she the agent who worked in the shadows to help people. Now she was interviewed on CSPAN and invited to the UN – not to mention being recognized on the street from time to time. Records of her past were all over the internet and she hated that.

So, when everything went to hell, it was nice to return to what she was good at.

* * *

"Catriona?"

"Yes, Mr. McLaughlin," she called politely, rising from her desk to walk to his doorway.

There was a man seated with his back to her, unmoving. Mr. McLaughlin was displaying signs of stress, and she clenched her teeth as she reflected that there were no scheduled appointments this late.

"Sir, you need to come with me," she stated in her own tone – Catriona having outlived her usefulness.

Mr. McLaughlin looked torn, glancing at the man before him for some kind of confirmation before meeting her eye again. "Catriona… He said he just wanted to talk," he began, an attempt to remove the blame from himself for calling her in here.

It was fortunate that he wasn't allowed to finish because she didn't want to hear it. The stranger rose slowly and turned to face her, holding a gun.

"Dmitri."

"Natalia."

She smiled tightly as she ran through options in her head. How he had found her was irrelevant – at least right now. That could be gone over and analyzed at a later date. For now, how was she going to get out of here without hurting anyone? And, ideally, with the information she'd been sent to recover in the first place. Mr. McLaughlin had been willing to give her access to everything, but his partner had not.

"I hate to barge in on you like this, but my employer would like a word," Dmitri continued smoothly.

Only half paying attention, she smirked. "I'm sure I have no interest in what an employer of yours might say."

"I'm sure Mrs. McLaughlin would appreciate if you gave me a chance. I'd hate for her to become a widow for no reason."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You really think that's enough of an incentive to bring _me_ in?"

Mr. McLaughlin looked considerably startled by that, but she couldn't tell if Dmitri was surprised. "I've heard you'd gone soft, Widow, playing with the superheroes," he told her condescendingly. "And it seems like there are lot of rules about any collateral damage you allow."

"Oh, Dmitri. If you know my name, then you know I don't play by anyone's rules," she informed him, and acted quickly. He was a big guy, but too busy pontificating to register her coiling like a spring before it was too late. Swinging around his shoulders, she wrapped a garrote around his neck and brought him down in a few moments. He fought back, of course, but only one person had ever evaded that move, so he was soon unconscious.

"Catriona?" Mr. McLaughlin was mumbling as he watched her, confused.

Standing gracefully, she kicked Dmitri in the head once for good measure before turning her attention to Mr. McLaughlin. "I'm going to have to tender my resignation, effective immediately. It's been a pleasure, sir," she added before striding out of the office.

Without slowing down, she headed into Wilson's office and was pleased to find him present. It took a few moments of negotiation, but she obtained the files she needed while he was tied to his chair. Smiling at him winningly, she related her resignation to him, and finally left the building. A quick stop by her apartment to pick up a few essentials, then it was off to the airport. After shaking off a few tails, Natasha Romanoff was on a plane and contemplating her next job.


	2. And, In the Shadows, She Finds a Way

**A/N: Thank you for all the speedy feedback! Please read and review :) And assume the dialogue is in Spanish.**

 **And, in the shadows, she finds a way**

SHIELD had always kept a good supply of safe houses well-stocked and spread around the world. After joining them and starting to make some money of her own, Natasha Romanoff started doing the same. Clint had taken to calling it her "web," and the name stuck. Less than twenty-four hours after she'd been found in Scotland, she was resting comfortably in one of her more luxurious apartments, in Brazil. Some of her safe houses were sparse and contained a better cache of weaponry than quality furniture, but this one had been one of her favorites. Why Brazil she wasn't really sure. The market had been good at the time, and perhaps she'd been in a more frivolous mood than usual.

In any case, she was reclining on her couch, the television on in the background while she perused available jobs. Not that it was anything so ordinary as the classifieds in the newspaper, but certainly less exciting than films on the subject might have you believe. When she'd worked for SHIELD, she had generally been given assignments with the option of accepting them or not. Often these were presented with minimal information and she had to agree to do the job before she found out any details.

Before that, in the Red Room… Well, she didn't like to think of that place, but certainly no one had been particularly interested in what kind of work she preferred. She was sent out and, if she was successful, she was rewarded. If the mission was not successful, well, then there was no point in returning. After it had been made clear to her that this was not a place she wished to spend her the rest of her days, she had escaped and tried working independently. It was a culture shock to be away from her handlers, and covertly finding jobs for her skillset proved much harder than she'd imagined it would be.

Now, much later, she was far more adept at finding contacts and determining if a job was safe enough to pursue. There had been a lot of mistakes back then – no wonder Clint had found her so easily. It was a relief to join SHIELD, to have oversight again. Plus, it was much easier to assuage guilt when you had the plausible deniability granted when someone else was calling the shots. After what happened to SHIELD, she hated herself for that selfishness. Who knew how much of what she'd done, never questioning, had been to help HYDRA?

Shaking her head to clear it, she focused again on the list and picked an easy job – a bodyguard was needed for a Senora Rosalinda Alvarez in Argentina. It was close by, and the woman was more paranoid than in any actual danger. Her wealth had increased substantially after the death of her husband, and she worried about someone wanting to get a portion of it while she attended his funeral. It would be a long weekend kind of gig, before she left the country for good.

Natasha noted that Senor Alvarez's death was somewhat suspicious and was aware that the wife was likely the culprit. But she needed a job. And would she really turn in a prospective employer when cash was running as low as it was? Well, maybe. Probably, if Senora Alvarez was a murderer. Dmitri was right – she had gone soft. But that wasn't supposed to be a problem – she wasn't supposed to go back to her old life.

* * *

Friday morning found Natasha in the Buenos Aires airport, dressed professionally. Male bodyguards often wore clothing that indicated their purpose, but she chose to wear heels and a nice dress. There was sufficient room to conceal her most useful weapons, and she was well-aware that she could incapacitate most people hand-to-hand regardless of what she was wearing. By looking like a businesswoman instead of a bodyguard, she would be underestimated if not dismissed entirely.

Near the baggage claim was a driver holding a sign with her name on it. Well, not her name, obviously. With Isabel Ruiz's name on it. Isabel was a dynamic personality, much more so than Catriona had been. She was an MMA fighter in her younger days until the lifestyle of working hard and partying harder resulted in a loss of supporters. So she'd turned to another way of using her skills to save for retirement, for when her body failed her. She enjoyed the work, getting to know interesting and powerful people, and was good at spotting threats before they became an issue. Many of her previous employers provided glowing reviews – not all fictional. Natasha had been Isabel on a few other occasions, but not for a long time.

Smiling broadly, she approached the driver. "Buenas dias," she told him.

He offered a significantly less sincere smile in return. "This way please, Miss," he said stiffly as he made his way out of the building.

"You know, I haven't been in Argentina in a while. How is everything?" Isabel began conversationally.

The driver had not offered his name, clearly uninterested in making her acquaintance – which sent up some red flags for Natasha. "Everything is fine. Here we are," he motioned toward an idling town car in a line of the same.

She memorized its appearance and plate number quickly. "Nice, very nice," she offered as he opened the door and she obligingly climbed in. He shut the door behind her, picking up her bag and depositing it in the trunk before resuming his seat in the vehicle. The partition was up between them and Natasha took the opportunity to inspect the interior briefly. Nothing out of the ordinary – though the windows were clearly bullet-proof and heavily tinted. Perhaps Senora's paranoia was getting the best of her.

The ride took some time, and she had little to do to occupy herself. Natasha would have read reports, either about the Alvarez family or other prospective clients. But Isabel wouldn't do that – she wasn't a woman who spent a lot of time on research. Isabel had taken the job because she needed one and it was not far from her home base. She wouldn't want to lose a job for asking too many questions. Her purpose was to guard Senora Alvarez and that was that. So, she pulled out her phone and played games on it.

Finally, they left the main road to follow a winding driveway up to a beautiful and expansive house. The gardens surrounding it were carefully cultivated and the walls contained huge windows for better viewing purposes. While the view, both of the property and the surrounding area, was no doubt lovely, Natasha winced at how insecure it made the place. Anyone could pull off a hit in these circumstances.

There was an excessive amount of guards patrolling the premises, and they had passed through a large gate. So at least there was a wall around the land, but it was too far out and too large to be monitored reliably. Cameras decorated the place, which did less to protect their owner than she might imagine – Natasha could spot several blind spots between them, and, anyway, camera surveillance was only as good as the person in charge of watching the cameras. In her experience, the exceedingly boring nature of the job made it not the most reliable system.

The car pulled around to the front of the house, where a grand staircase led up to a pair of wooden doors at least ten feet tall. Another issue – they would be heavy and unwieldy if they needed to be closed in a hurry.

"Senorita," the driver called back via a microphone, no more friendly now than he had been when he picked her up. "La Senora is waiting for you in the drawing room. Second door on the right."

"Gracias, senor," she responded with a smile as she opened the door. The car didn't move and the driver didn't get out as Isabel climbed the stairs and entered the house (the doors were as unwieldy as feared). Inside, she was unsurprised to find a luxurious home with expensive art and perfect appointments. It was like being in a magazine, she thought as she headed toward the drawing room.

Using it to its exact purpose was Senora Alvarez. She was seated by the window, a large easel in front of her, on which she was sketching the landscape with pastels. The woman was in her late fifties, with long black hair containing only a few grey streaks and arranged carefully in a bun at the base of her scalp. Her eyes were quick and intelligent, and she no doubt registered Isabel's quiet entrance without pausing in her work. The dress she wore was appropriately black and modest, and she still wore a wedding ring.

"Buenas tardes. Senorita Ruiz, I take it?" Sra. Alvarez questioned.

"Si, Senora," Isabel answered, smiling. "Please, call me Isabel. And that is a lovely drawing."

Turning to face her, Sra. Alvarez raised an eyebrow. "Muchas gracias, I'm sure," she murmured as she got to her feet. One hand held her skirts up to keep from tripping as the widow approached her new bodyguard, clearly doing a visual inspection. A slight frown formed between her eyebrows as her gaze returned to Isabel's face. "You're not what I expected."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Isabel responded, unapologetic. "I'm very good at my job, Senora, if you'll give me a chance."

"Hmm. Why did you come here?"

"To protect you, Senora."

Sra. Alvarez waved a hand dismissively. "Why did you choose this job? It's not paying the price you usually ask for, and you made no attempt to negotiate."

Natasha smiled slightly – that was inaccurate. Isabel had become an economic person after she'd stopped fighting, and her price had never been very high. This one was a bit lower, but not substantially. And it had been some time since Isabel had taken a job. Still, it was good to see that the woman was suspicious – the worst clients were those who expected to put the entire task of protecting them on their bodyguards, without taking any precautions.

"Perhaps because I sympathize with a woman whose male family members do not consider her an appropriate successor to Senor Diego Alvarez, III," she offered.

The smile that graced the other woman's face was almost surprised. "I did not advertise that as my situation."

"I don't believe I read it wrong," Isabel answered, slight doubt in her tone.

"Not at all," Sra. Alvarez assured her, patting her arm. "Tell me about my house."

Frowning briefly, Natasha looked at the older woman for a moment. "The windows are too large, whether or not the glass is bulletproof. They should be covered. The gardens are a point of entry that is insufficiently monitored. Your cameras have weak spots. I would recommend, Senora, that you spend your weekend elsewhere."

"And where would you suggest?"

"There's a hotel in town I have used before. It would be easier to secure than this place," Isabel told her, pleased that the widow's demeanor had become more trusting.

With a smile, Sra. Alvarez nodded. "Come along, then, and we will get ready to relocate."


	3. And, In the Shadows, She Crawls

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And, in the shadows, she crawls**

The hotel was nice enough to live up to Sra. Alvarez's standards, which was one of the reasons Natasha had become acquainted with it. Part of her web included very nice hotels, which were a valuable resource. One, because escorting clients wealthy enough to afford her would demand it, and, two, because people didn't look in these kinds of places for anyone on the run. They looked in seedy motels, not the most expensive place in town.

In any case, Isabel helped her client finish packing her essentials. She explained that the bulk of the estate was being auctioned off – there was no reason for her to stay here and be reminded of her husband. Watching her carefully (without being obvious about it), Natasha determined that Sra. Alvarez had loved her husband and regretted his death. That didn't mean she wasn't complicit in it, of course, but it was a start.

The same unfriendly driver took them back into town, and it was clear to Natasha that he was quite fond of his mistress. Which perhaps explained her chilly reception – he didn't trust her to protect Sra. Alvarez. She was used to that reaction. Other people's frequent habit of underestimating her was always an advantage.

During the drive, the widow described all of her relatives, friends, and acquaintances who would be attending the funeral and the wake the following day. There were three brothers-in-law (Hector, Luis, and Tino), a step-son and his wife (Jorge and Ana), Sr. Alvarez's business partner (Juan Gonzalez), among others. The family business had been real estate, which led to timber, which led to the kind of multi-faceted and indefinable company that wealthy people liked. It brought in millions without anyone having to be too concerned with anything tangible.

Isabel studied the pictures Sra. Alvarez had on her phone of the people in question while her client talked, and the briefing (as Natasha thought of it) lasted until they had arrived. The older woman was a good judge of character and Natasha appreciated the insight she could provide. Not all clients were so forthcoming, or prepared.

A thorough sweep of the hotel room convinced Isabel that none of Sra. Alvarez's rivals intended to act tonight (Natasha suspected they would wait until after the publicity of the funeral), so she sent the woman to bed. Before turning in herself, Natasha researched the names on Sra. Alvarez's list, as well as whatever she could determine about the family.

* * *

The funeral was a staunchly Catholic affair, and Isabel went through the motions at Sra. Alvarez's side, discreetly observing the other attendees. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but she wouldn't relax until she had escorted her client safely out of the country. Her family was from Peru and she would be returning there as soon as possible, having been made to feel unwelcome by her in-laws. To put it lightly.

Isabel had attempted to draw her out and pin down exact reasons why Sra. Alvarez feared for her life, and why she placed those fears on a few specific people. The widow had been unwilling to go into detail, and Isabel let it go. Her job was to stop attackers, not necessarily predict them. Natasha did not like being Isabel sometimes. Information was her currency and she hated not having as much as possible.

Once the old man was in the ground, the family returned to the house for the wake. There were over a hundred people present, and Isabel was feeling stressed about how to keep her client safe in this crowd. It would be hard to spot a threat ahead of time, especially because the people approaching Sra. Alvarez came bearing gifts or mementos that might be tucked away in pockets.

"You seem on edge, dear. Everything alright?" Sra. Alvarez asked under her breath.

"Everything's under control," Isabel assured her.

A smile tugged at the widow's lips. "Good to hear. Senora Espinoza!"

The last comment was directed at a diminutive woman who came up and pulled Sra. Alvarez into a hug. Isabel jumped forward to intervene, only to be waved off. "My condolences, my friend," Sra. Espinoza said firmly. "Who is this?"

"This? She is my … companion," Sra. Alvarez answered after the slightest of pauses. "Isabel Ruiz, this is my friend Marisol Espinoza."

"A pleasure," Isabel responded, offering her hand.

"Hmm, I thought I was Rosie's companion," Sra. Espinoza muttered, winking.

Sra. Alvarez laughed out loud, causing a few heads to glance their direction. A widow laughing at her wealthy husband's funeral isn't exactly proper, after all. She sobered quickly and offered apologetic looks to anyone still peering at her. "Don't say such things, Mari. You'll make Isabel suspicious of me."

"Rosie had nothing to do with Diego's death, Senorita Ruiz, I can assure you," Sra. Espinoza whispered, sounding sincere.

Isabel smiled politely. "I'm sure she didn't," she offered.

Marisol Espinoza remained with them for the rest of the night, effectively cheering up Sra. Alvarez. Sometimes she pulled Isabel into the conversation, but mostly Natasha listened quietly and kept a close eye on the dwindling crowd. The family members of whom Sra. Alvarez was suspicious did come to pay their respects, one by one, to the widow, but none showed any signs of becoming a threat.

When the guests had all gone, Isabel accompanied Senoras Alvarez and Espinoza as they walked through the house, reminiscing and saying goodbye to the rooms and to each other. It was quite a relief when Sra. Alvarez finally got into the car to return to the hotel, leaving her friend behind. Isabel had checked it for any tampering, which the driver had not appreciated, and was thinking that this had been a pretty easy job.

She went on thinking that for another half an hour, until they were on a dark country road and another vehicle rammed into them. Even then, her first thought was how sloppy it was. If they wanted it to look like an accident, side-swiping to run them off the road was not the way to go. Her next thought was securing Sra. Alvarez, which she did even as they rolled once.

"Stay here, and stay quiet," Isabel ordered. The older woman nodded, eyes wide and face very pale. She clasped her hands and rocked slightly back and forth while Natasha climbed slowly out of the car. The driver was still in the vehicle as far as she could tell, so she moved toward the road to determine if the attack would be continued.

The SUV that had hit them was idling nearby, and the driver's door opened as Natasha moved slowly up the hill. She froze and watched as a man stepped out – Hector Alvarez. The lights from inside the car shone on him briefly before he shut the door. Something glinted in his hand – a gun.

Glancing back to be sure that Sra. Alvarez was still safe, Isabel started forward in the darkness. He wasn't expecting her, and didn't spot her until it was too late, thanks to her appropriately black clothing as well as her skills. She tackled him to the ground, knocking the gun from his hand. Once he was face down on the pavement, he began shouting slurs. These she ignored as she pulled his hands behind his back and pinned him there.

"Senora, I have him," she called, which set off another bout of angry cursing.

Slowly, Sra. Alvarez climbed out of the car and back to the road, watching her brother-in-law warily. "Hector… Why?" she murmured once she was close.

"Because you killed my brother!" Hector snarled, attempting to wrench himself from Isabel's grasp. She shifted her weight to pin him more thoroughly.

"You know I didn't," Sra. Alvarez said quietly.

Snorting, he glanced around dismissively. "Yeah? And how do I know that?"

"Because you did."

That made him begin to panic and Isabel struggled to keep him down. "How dare you! Slander! You cold-hearted, opportunistic – Look, Senorita Ruiz, she's lying. I'd never hurt my brother," he appealed.

"That's not really my concern," she replied coldly.

"If Diego died, and if I met with some accident, it would all go to you, wouldn't it?"

Hector's silence spoke volumes. But it didn't last long. He began swearing again, cursing Sra. Alvarez and her family for daring to join with his, among other vaguer epitaphs. Isabel cuffed him on the side of the head and he subsided.

"Are you alright?" she asked her client, who nodded. "Call the police."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

Natasha looked up sharply. "Why not?"

Sra. Alvarez smiled, clearly aware of what Natasha was thinking. "You should know that someone like him, with his money, will face few consequences. Especially when we can't prove anything. Just leave him and let's go. I want to get home."

Despite Isabel's protests, they didn't linger. Their driver was awake and minimally injured, so he put Hector in their car, still bound, and they took his to the airport. Sra. Alvarez insisted that Isabel continue with her, despite the likelihood that she was out of danger.

"I don't understand. Why don't you want justice?" Isabel asked quietly when they were in the air.

Sra. Alvarez shrugged. "I lived with that family for thirty years. They accepted me as Deigo's wife, but I was never one of them. Do you know what that's like, to never belong?"

"I do," Natasha answered softly.

Putting her hand comfortingly on Isabel's arm, Sra. Alvarez continued. "They quarreled often and had no interest in my attempts to make peace. So I have no regrets leaving them to each other. I have no doubt that, where men's egos are concerned, things will fall apart."

Sra. Alvarez was startled when Isabel started laughing, especially given the tinge of hysteria in the action. Sobering after a moment, Natasha looked at her client with a bitter smile. "I believe you are right about that."


	4. Clutching Her Faded Photograph

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Clutching her faded photograph**

The plane landed without incident, and Isabel was glad to entrust her client to waiting family. All of them thanked her warmly once Sra. Alvarez explained who she was, and Natasha was uncomfortable with the praise. She should have spotted the tail, should have noticed the SUV getting close to them. Sure, the job had been an overall success, but it wasn't her best work.

After the family had offered a great deal of hospitality, which Natasha refused politely, she walked over to the board displaying flights and considered where to go next. She hadn't had a chance to line up another job yet – or, at any rate, had found none to her liking that required immediate attention. So she decided to change her location. Perhaps South America wasn't ideal – her Spanish acceptable but not the best, and her Portuguese barely passable. Returning to Russia would be too… predictable a thing for her to do. And she had mixed feelings about going back there. Thus, she settled on Eastern Europe – she knew most of the languages and a pale redhead wouldn't stick out particularly there.

The flight to Budapest took a long time, with a number of connecting flights and layovers in various places. She felt it wise to avoid entering the States entirely, which did nothing to ease the journey. It was probably paranoia – she was no more likely to be recognized at an airport there than one in any other country. New York might be avoidable, but nowhere else would pose much of a problem.

And it wasn't as though the United States government was all that directly responsible for what had happened. Not in the way the Soviet government had been involved with her upbringing. So she didn't have the same uncomfortable feelings about stepping back on U.S. soil that she did about going home to Russia. She was technically a citizen and returning might give her some good insight into what had happened after she'd left Tony at the hospital.

Whatever the reason, her gut instinct was to steer clear for a while, so she followed a circuitous route to Europe. She did not think about how her last trip here had been on a private jet, as opposed to being slightly crushed in economy class. She did not think about how unsustainable her current lifestyle was – it paid, but she would have to lower her standards to afford upkeep on her web and the airfare to attend to it. She did not think about how she was more alone now than she had ever been, and that it was unlikely to change.

What she did think about was when she and Clint had been in Budapest before, and that was a much more pleasant memory.

* * *

Finally, she was in the Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport. It was familiar to her, and she only half paid attention as she made her way through it. A taxi took her toward her safe house, though a direct route would be unwise. She paid the man and walked half a kilometer before finding another cab to get her within a couple blocks of her destination.

It was a pain sometimes, having to be so thorough. It hadn't been as necessary in recent years. What she could offer the team was more often her instincts and training than her physical presence and assets, for obvious reasons. No matter how hard she worked, she would never be able to compete with a man in a metal suit or a super soldier. And no one could compete with the god or the Hulk. So she and Clint had offered a different perspective on situations, as well as significantly more field experience.

Her life hadn't depended on her ability to shake a tail in a few years, though, so she was being extra careful. Maybe Ross's people would find her, in which case she might be facing jail time. But, while that was an unpleasant notion, there were other people who would be interested in finding her now that she was no longer under the protection of the Avengers. SHIELD had always protected her, and she'd felt relatively safe then – but she was also making enemies while she worked for them.

One of the potential problems with keeping track of a web of safe houses was making sure you could get in all of them. It wasn't as though she could carry over a dozen keys with her where ever she went. And most of them were in locations where anything more high-tech would be considered suspicious. Hiding a key somewhere nearby was not reliable, since it could be years between visits.

So how did the overly paranoid get into all those safe houses? Simple – she was adept at lock picking. And she kept spare keys hidden inside, so staying in one residence for a while didn't require her to pick her way back in just because she went out for groceries. Certainly there were more efficient modern things she could use, but she tended to trust older methods. Perhaps because they weren't so easily hacked by someone potentially far away.

Not that she trusted her system implicitly – if she could get in, so could anyone else. A small piece of tape was affixed to the top of the doorframe, and it was unbroken. Therefore, no one had been inside since she was last home. Well, at least, no one had gone through the front door. There were windows, which someone might use despite it being the fifth floor of the building.

It was late at night, and the hallway was deserted, so Natasha did not feel rushed as she worked on the lock. After a few moments – the lock was familiar, after all – she was granted access. A quick but thorough search showed that it was, indeed, empty. And the layer of dust indicated that no one had disturbed it in a while.

She tried to think of the last time she was here while she pulled out a snack she'd gotten from the airport, checking on the supply levels in the pantry and refrigerator. Very low. She would have to go to the store tomorrow. For now, she plugged in her various electronic devices to charge and took care of at least some of the dust. Then she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and shower quickly. Finally, she climbed into bed and was very grateful to be sleeping on a horizontal surface.

* * *

 _Sloppy, pretending to fail. – Madame B's voice echoed in her brain as she watched the girls practice, a terrible fear in her belly._

 _They vanished and she heard something else: Is there anything real about you? … It must be real hard to shake the double-agent thing._

 _Tony. After all these years… How could he have still thought that of her? Did he not know her at all? "They're coming for you," he'd said._

 _Running – people following. She picked up speed – how had she gotten so careless? But it wasn't people – it was a person. Clint. Maybe I can offer you something else, he'd said when he caught her. Maybe something besides death was what he meant. And she'd believed him._

 _She held him at bay, asking him if they were still friends. He'd smiled, told her it depended on how hard she hit him. And she had hit him hard – but Wanda was a hard hitter and she'd gone down. It had been a shock to feel the energy, or whatever it was, on her ankle as a former ally knocked the breath out of her._

 _Striking a luggage car, she lay there gasping in pain. Until a metal hand wrapped around her neck and a familiar face stared down at her, unrecognizing._

* * *

Natasha sat up with a start. It was bad enough that her sleep was plagued by old failures – did she really have to be reminded of things she couldn't control? Dragging herself out of bed, she was relieved to see that it was morning. Not that there was much in the way of breakfast waiting, but she wanted out of her room. So she headed toward the kitchen. Then stopped in her tracks.

"You're out of coffee," Clint told her conversationally.


	5. My Image Under Her Thumb

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **My image under her thumb**

"I'm out of a lot of things," Natasha replied, folding her arms over her chest. "How did you find me?"

With a slight smile, Clint returned to rummaging through her cupboards. "I'm hurt. Sounds like you don't want to see me."

"Clint."

"'Tasha."

Sighing audibly, she turned around. "I'll get dressed. We'll go out for breakfast."

"And coffee?"

"And coffee."

* * *

Twenty minutes later and they were in a café not far from the safe house. It was busy this time of day, and Natasha was suspicious of any prying eyes – or ears. So she focused on enjoying her first real meal in a few days and watching Clint do the same. He looked tired. The kind that no amount of sleeping would drive away. She hadn't expected the prison to hold him for long, but was surprised he hadn't just gone home instead of traveling. Unless there was some kind of job that brought him here – but he had said he was retired.

"Keeping busy?" she asked lightly.

A grim smile quirked on his lips before fading. "Trying. You? You've been getting some sun, I think."

She laughed, surprised. "I've been in South America for a while, working."

"And what brings you away from beautiful beaches and palm trees?"

Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head. "Working, Clint. Not on vacation."

"Of course." He smiled at her over his coffee cup, commiserating.

"No good jobs were available, so I figured I'd change my location for a while."

Finishing his food, he moved his chair away from the table to lean back, watching her. "Things sure have changed since we were last here."

"Yeah."

"Not for the better."

"Probably not."

He fell silent, looking around casually. No one would see him and think he was assessing their surroundings as carefully as any well-trained spy – he looked like a tired tourist taking in the view. A smirk crossed her face at the thought and he returned his attention to her.

"We have some things to discuss, 'Tasha."

"Alright. Let's go," she said, finishing her drink before getting to her feet.

They took care of the bill and walked leisurely to the nearest store. Clint insisted on buying coffee, and they got enough food for about 48 hours, making Natasha wonder what her friend had planned. Their conversation regarded the weather, or the availability of certain foods, and ignored anything that might be suspicious. It was a relief to finally get inside and be able to ask him –

"How did you get out of prison?"

"Cap," he answered nonchalantly as he started making a cup of coffee, leaving their purchases on the counter.

Though she'd hoped for something more specific, she moved on as she began putting things away. "Why didn't you go home?"

Clint was silent for a long moment while she waited. "Can't," he said at last.

Impatiently, she walked over and blocked him to get his attention. "Why not, Clint?" she asked slowly, more gently than her body language would suggest.

His eyes narrowed, but he wasn't angry at her. "Stark. Told 'em about Laura and the kids. Well, that they exist. I didn't want them to get wrapped up in this, so I figured I'd lay low for a while. Help out Cap – he's not the best fugitive."

It was smart of him to keep talking, to keep her from focusing on her anger toward Tony, and to think instead about helping Steve when he was trying to be under cover. She smiled slightly, letting Clint lead the conversation. "You should have been there two years ago."

"Hey, I was using my hard-earned personal days. How could I have known that three-day weekend would be so eventful?"

That brought a laugh out of her, and she leaned against the counter, out of his way. "He wasn't terrible at it. Being on the run, I mean. Once he got the hang of it," she said a little wistfully.

"Well, I'm sure you're a much better teacher than me. Lang's pretty good, given his background, and Wilson does alright. But," he shrugged eloquently.

Smiling, she looked away thoughtfully. "Steve and Wanda don't have much experience in being under cover for long, but I would have thought that Barnes would be adept," she offered after a pause.

Clint looked up at her a little sharply. "I'm sure he is. But he's not with us."

"He's not?" The remembered sensation of metal fingers around her throat hopefully didn't make her sound too concerned about his location.

A slight smile crossed his face, so she probably wasn't as successful as hoped. "Nope. Seems he's tired of it and decided to go under until this all blows over. Can't say I blame him."

She frowned. "Go under? You mean…"

"Cryogenically frozen. Not the route I'd take to get out of trouble, but, to each his own. Hey, 'Tasha, you with me?" he continued and she forced herself to focus on the present.

"Yeah, I just… I didn't realize that was an option. Might have to try it myself," she added with a grin.

Clint returned her expression. "You'll have to ask that king you tased. So he might not be too happy to host you."

"Ah. Good point. I guess I'll have to resign myself to the land of the living."

"It's not always the best, but it's what we got."

* * *

After their talk, Clint went to nap on the couch. Natasha returned to her room to rest, but sleep didn't come. It often didn't, after a nightmare. So she stared at the ceiling and considered what she was going to do. For whatever reason Clint had come here, he clearly hoped to bring her back with him to where ever the rest of Steve's team were hiding. Should she go?

It wasn't that she'd sided against Steve or with Tony – she'd sided with continuing to have a job. General Ross had said they would be retired if they didn't answer to a higher authority, and she understood clearly what he meant. They were too dangerous to act however they pleased, as Tony had helpfully shown. And it was never the intention to have them act without supervision. No one had expected SHIELD to implode like it had.

But the point was that there shouldn't be any bad blood between her and Steve. Or her and anyone else. The fight had not been that rough – at least, not until Rhodey was shot down. So no one would be upset to see her. Clint's hints at the challenge of keeping the group of them in hiding was something with which she could certainly help, and it would be nice to get some answers about all of this.

So why wasn't she thrilled at the prospect? It couldn't be worse than her mercenary work – and her bills could wait a little while until this blew over. There was nothing for which she needed to apologize in particular. They were her friends and teammates and would welcome her. It wasn't going to be like the Red Room, where partnerships were fostered until they were forced to turn on each other.

For the team to reform, both Tony and Steve would have to do some apologizing and facing of harsh truths that brought everyone to this point. And maybe she was just tired at the thought of having to orchestrate that. Yes, it was probably that. Not anxiousness at the idea of sharing her own harsh truths with everyone – the ones concerning a man in a cryogenic tube in Wakanda. No, there was not a pressing need for that to be shared with anyone. That could wait until he woke up, and then she'd play off of his behavior.

* * *

"We could have done this better," Natasha told Clint over a glass of wine after he'd woken up. "Getting everyone to the airport, I mean."

He smiled grimly. "We didn't think they'd resort to punching it out."

Smirking, she shook her head. "That's always a valid option, according to Steve."

"True," Clint responded with a snort. "Didn't think Stark felt the same way, though."

"I guess I should have let you stay retired," she teased.

"Don't beat yourself up, 'Tasha. You needed to keep them from getting too far because Ross was breathing down Stark's neck. It made sense. I probably shouldn't have done so well at recruiting allies."

She laughed, relieved at his sentiment. "Yeah, we were already outnumbered. Didn't need Wanda and Lang to join your side."

He shrugged. "I thought the other perspectives might have helped broaden Cap's view of the situation. I forgot how easily he gets people to follow him."

A wistful smile crossed her face. "Yeah. You think he was like that when he was just a little guy?"

"No idea, Nat. So, how 'bout it?" he added, almost businesslike.

"How about what?" she evaded.

With a sigh, he turned to look at her intently. "You gonna keep hiding or do you want to join the good guys?"

"Was I with the bad guys before?" she wanted to know, mock-offended.

He smiled broadly. "Hard to tell. What's your plan?"

Looking away, she was quiet for a long time. "I work better alone."

"'Tasha…"

"I have a lot of things to make up for. Maybe I should try it on my own for a while. See how heroic I can be without the team," she murmured.

Clint leaned forward and waited until she looked him in the eye. "You're a hero. Don't let Ross get to you. Think it over. I'll stay in touch if you change your mind."

"Thank you."

"Look, I know you're angry at Rogers, and at Stark, for breaking us up. But it'll pass, something will come along and they'll need us, all of us. I hope you don't wait until then, though," he added, still watching her.

As soon as he said it, she realized that was why she didn't want to go with him. She'd forgive Steve his stubbornness eventually, but was wary of joining him to continue opposing Tony, and Ross, and maybe the UN. "I hope so, too," she told him honestly.

Smiling grimly, he sat back and their talk turned to safer topics.


	6. Yes, With a Message From My Heart

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Yes, with a message for my heart**

Clint was asleep when Natasha got up the next morning, but he woke immediately as she entered the room. "How long are you going to stay?" she asked.

"Bored of me already?" he responded, stretching. "I didn't think you'd be here, you know."

"So you were just going to hide out for a while?"

A slight smile crossed his face as he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. "I've got a meeting at 1400. Care to join me?"

"Whom are you meeting, Clint?" she asked, frowning at him.

"Lucius Best."

"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

He stopped making coffee to look over at her. "Yes. Come on, Nat, I know it's early, but you should get this."

Something clicked and she smirked. "Fury. He's here?"

"Briefly. Thought I'd talk to him about staying in contact with Cap. Give the team something to do, you know."

Natasha could imagine that Steve wouldn't handle just lying low very well. Not for long, anyway. The others would probably not enjoy their fugitive status and would want to make up for what they'd done to get on Ross' list, justified or otherwise. "That's good," she answered belatedly.

"'Tasha… If you don't want to come with me to Cap, maybe working with Fury would be the next best thing," Clint offered slowly.

"It would be nice," she conceded.

"I would like to know someone's looking out for you. And that we have a line of communication."

She smiled at that. "Thanks, Clint. What do we need to do to prepare?"

"There's a park. We are going to go there and wait for him." She must have looked skeptical because he grinned. "He's dead, Nat. For two years. No one is looking for him anymore. We're the ones who have to make sure we're avoiding attention, or he won't make contact."

"It doesn't seem like that long ago, since we were all at your farm," she said after a thoughtful pause.

The pained look on Clint's face made her wish she could take it back. "Yeah. Well, what's for breakfast?"

* * *

Natasha spent the morning perusing potential jobs and feeling relieved that she had an option between rejoining Steve and being completely on her own. It had occurred to her that she might ask Clint to join her, for old time's sake, and they could run missions like they used to without her having to go help babysit those who had chosen the other side. But she didn't know if she could ask that of him. Clint had left his family, knowing it would make him a fugitive, out of loyalty to Steve. And because she'd invited him to help keep the disagreement from getting too out of hand. She couldn't ask for more of him now, not until she'd made up for her mistakes.

She had thought that, together, the two of them might get Steve and Tony face to face to talk things out. When Clint had first heard of the Accords, he'd decided it was a good time to leave the superheroing to someone else. But things escalated to the point he could no longer ignore them, and he'd been staunchly on Steve's side. Which didn't mean he wanted to see Tony beaten to a pulp, so he'd been willing to listen to Natasha when she called. It didn't work out the way they'd hoped.

It might take a while to blow over, if it were even possible. The public opinion was divisive on the subject, though most felt some kind of supervision would be beneficial. It was thought that the handling of Captain America had been done poorly, and Natasha agreed wholeheartedly. That was partially her fault, but she couldn't control Tony. As much as she'd like to sometimes. No one could, except maybe Pepper. Who was understandably frustrated with the situation.

But Natasha hadn't gotten any fresh news in a while, so who knew what they were up to? The news cycle had begun to move on, and wasn't always that accurate anyway. If she really wanted to know, she should just go home. Until then, she was going to work for one of the few people she trusted completely, and she couldn't help but feel excited.

"You ready?" Clint asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Closing her laptop, she got to her feet with a smile. "Let's go."

* * *

The park was a few kilometers away. They chose to walk, both for covert reasons and just for the exercise. Lying low wasn't a very good workout, generally. Both wore jackets and sunglasses, Clint with a baseball cap and Natasha with a scarf. They weren't as under cover as they could be, but shouldn't be recognized by anyone except their former boss.

Clint bought a snack from a vendor and they sat down on a bench to wait. It wasn't a large park, but had some nice trees providing good shade. It was peaceful. Natasha thought about other meetups she'd had in neutral locations.

"Remember that time in the graveyard in Turkey?" she asked.

"Hey, you could have said something instead of letting me look like an idiot," he replied, looking offended.

She grinned smugly. "You'd just got done telling me that, as a junior agent, you expected me to follow your lead."

"I'd never had a partner before, and you're more than a little intimidating."

"Aw, are you saying you were scared of me?" she asked, laughing.

"Were?" he replied, shaking his head.

"Hmm. It's a little odd that you let me near your kids, then."

He considered that. "You know what? It really is. I don't recall ever inviting you to visit. How did you find out about them?"

"You were injured in the field and on all kinds of pain medication when I stopped by to check on you. You kept insisting you wanted to go home, and, since we were in your apartment, I told you that you were home… Anyway, you weren't all that lucid, but I found the farm. Laura was very happy to see you, and quite pleasant to me."

"I think I remember that. It seemed perfectly normal to have you around when I woke up," he admitted.

She smiled, not letting on how touched she was at the sentiment. "I'm sure they're fine, Clint."

"Me too. Laura knows how to take care of things."

"She does. I'm sorry retirement didn't last very long."

Clint shrugged. "There's still time. I'm going to ask Fury about that."

"Ask me about what?" a voice came suddenly from behind them.

Fighting their instincts to respond more rapidly, both spies turned leisurely to look up at Nick Fury. He was wearing sunglasses and more colorful clothes than Natasha could remember having seen him in before. He was also giving her a long look.

"Didn't expect you here," he said at last.

"Didn't expect to be here," she replied amiably.

"I'm sure it's a good story. Let's talk somewhere more private."

Fury led the way out of the park and down a few blocks before choosing a dark bar on a corner. Though it was early afternoon, the place had a decent number of patrons. They made their way to a table in the back and settled in.

"Nice to see you together again," he began once they were alone. "Is she in on this, Barton?"

Clint cleared his throat. "'Fraid not."

Fury looked her over, questioning. "I work better alone," she told him, more firmly than she'd been with Clint. "I'd appreciate any jobs you'd be willing to send my way, but I'm not going with him to Steve."

"Suit yourself," Fury replied with a shrug. "Don't know how helpful I can be to them anyway. But I'm glad to see you working, Romanoff. I wasn't sure where you'd got to after the dust settled."

She smiled slightly. "We could have used you around to keep things civil."

"I'm sure you could have. But I'd hate to give Ross another heart attack by making him see a ghost."

Clint muttered something about not necessarily agreeing, and Fury laughed.

"Now, Romanoff, I have to talk to Clint about his job. Why don't you go get us drinks and then we'll talk?"

"Sure thing," she replied, though Clint looked at her sharply. She understood Nick's caution, even if it hurt a little. If she didn't know what Clint was doing, then she wouldn't get distracted while she was doing her own thing later.


	7. I'm Not 17, but I've Cuts On My Knees

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! (NerdGirl1, you are completely right about Tony and I agree on the teams!)**

 **Well, I'm not seventeen, but I've cuts on my knees**

Natasha took her time getting the drinks, chatting with the staff to keep herself occupied. After she'd delayed as long as she reasonably could, she returned to the table with Nick and Clint. It was strange to be together again – it had been a long time. Well, there was that time at the Barton's, but that all seemed like a dream. She felt a pang of homesickness at the thought of working for SHIELD. It had been the one thing she thought she'd done well.

"All settled?" she asked lightly as she sat down.

"Yeah," Clint replied in a way that made her think he was less than thrilled with what he had to do. Maybe he would share it with her later, if she asked the right way.

"Can't stay long," Nick muttered pointedly as he took a swig of his drink.

Natasha smiled. "I am very curious about how you've spent your time being dead," she told him teasingly.

"I'm sure it's similar to what you've been doing lately. You find a job, you finish it, you find another," he said dismissively.

Clint snorted and Natasha laughed. Nick looked slightly affronted. "I'm sure you're not doing little mercenary jobs like I do," Natasha told him.

"Yeah? What do you think I do, then?" Nick wanted to know, sounding amused despite himself.

The two spies exchanged glances before Natasha answered. "You are probably gathering assets and saving them for a rainy day, while doing what good you can – protecting people when you can – along the way."

"I'm retired," Nick deflected with a brief grin.

"I thought you were dead," Clint replied, sounding convincingly confused.

"That too," the former director of SHIELD stated with a shrug, then held up his glass. "To who we used to be," he said solemnly.

The gravity of the toast was not lost on them, and introspective silence followed it. Natasha thought about how she'd give anything to go back to that, to working for SHIELD. Maybe before the Avengers Initiative. She'd liked her job better before becoming well-known, though she might have been wiping more red from her ledger once she became a "hero."

Nick cleared his throat and Clint and Natasha looked up at him. "Trouble always comes around. They'll need us again. They'll need _you_ again before too long. And then this will just seem like a bad dream."

Nodding slowly, Natasha returned her gaze to the table in front of her, vaguely aware of Clint and Nick exchanging looks.

"Nat is thinking that maybe she doesn't want to be needed again," Clint stated. He always did have a good read on her.

"Now, why is that?" Nick asked gently, concerned.

She considered her words carefully before answering. "Maybe I'm not cut out for it. It wasn't what I was raised to be. I'm a spy and an assassin, Nick. I know I've done some good using those skills, but they don't fit that well with a team of superheroes."

"Hey, I'm in the same boat," Clint offered.

Smiling grimly, she shook her head. "No, you're not. You… you chose to become a spy. They made me into one."

Natasha was relieved that neither of them attempted to correct her, though both looked unhappy with her self-assessment.

"You've broken through that programming long ago. Our best people looked into it. So you don't need to be worried about regressing." Nick paused, watching her. "But you're free to do whatever you want now."

"Thank you," she murmured. Then she cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. "Sorry, it's been a little rough lately. What do you need from me, Nick?"

Nick Fury pulled a burner phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "It doesn't dial out. Make sure you answer it when it rings."

"Yes, sir." Her smile was genuine – this was just like old times.

He waved off the epitaph. "No one calls me sir anymore. The hierarchy is gone."

"You're still the top of it," Clint pointed out.

"For now," Nick replied amicably, getting to his feet. "Take care of yourselves. No one has extraction plans anymore."

"Never needed 'em," was Clint's clarification as Fury headed out the door. Then he turned to Natasha. "You alright?"

She stood up as well, still smiling. "Yeah. It's nice to get back to work."

He made a noise that wasn't quite agreeing, and they made their way back to the safe house.

* * *

Whatever Clint and Nick had talked about kept Clint busy for a while. Natasha checked on what she could, but was mostly content to wait for a phone call. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For now, it was a relief to have someone else calling the shots. More importantly, she trusted Nick completely. So waiting on him was no hardship.

"I'll keep in touch," Clint stated suddenly as he picked up his bag.

Natasha was surprised, but walked him to the door. She hadn't thought he'd be leaving today, and fought the disappointed feeling in her chest. "Be careful."

He smiled. "You too. Make sure Fury's got your back."

"Who's got yours?" she wanted to know.

"Hopefully Fury. Who knows, maybe if I'm in over my head, your first job will be saving my ass."

Smirking, she leaned against the doorframe. "Someone's always got to, seems like."

It would be normal for them to part after teasing each other, but Clint stopped and looked at her. "When this all blows over… I'm going home. Laura deserves that."

"I understand."

He sighed. "You're welcome to come with me. Always. But they were wrong, you know. The folks in the Red Room."

"Were they?"

"Yes. You have a place in the world, Nat. You'll find it again." With that, he kissed her forehead and turned away. She watched him disappear down the hallway, fighting to maintain her composure. Then she went inside.

* * *

It was 18 hours until she got the call. The time dragged by and she struggled to sleep. Nightmares about losing what few freedoms and friends she had left were rampant, and she spent a great deal of the time sitting on the porch, staring out across the city. If she had the choice, where would she go?

That was a problem shared by most of the team, she thought. They were all out of place and they'd made a home together. However briefly it had lasted. Tony was most at home in his lab, but he was struggling to address all the worries in his head, so she didn't think he found peace anymore. Maybe when Pepper could help. Steve was displaced by time and might eventually make his life here. The passing of Peggy Carter had been tough for him, but could be the catalyst he needed to move on. Maybe Sharon could help with that.

Bruce and Thor were gone, perhaps because they felt like outsiders even in their little group of misfits. The new recruits – Wanda, Sam – were more prepared for what they were getting into. Natasha had joined the Avengers almost unwittingly. They were all in danger, and she had done her part to help. Though she had been sent to vet Tony for the initiative, and to fetch Bruce to be involved, it hadn't occurred to her that she herself would be asked to join.

After things died down, it had been pleasant to return to her job and occasionally help or receive support from the others. Working with Steve became almost as easy as working with Clint, and she had enjoyed that time. But SHIELD was gone now. And so were the Avengers. So what could she do?

* * *

She was still considering this when the burner phone finally rang.

"Romanoff."

"How's your Korean?" Nick asked without preamble.

"Rusty but passable."

"Go to the airport. Pick up a ticket for Go Eun Choi. Further instructions to follow."

"Thank you, sir."

The call ended and Natasha took a deep breath, then smiled. Time to get to work.


	8. Falling Down as the Winter Takes

**A/N: I forgot to mention this earlier, but titles are lyrics from Tori Amos' Girl (because redheads should stick together). And shout-out to the real Go Eun Choi, who is the reason I passed physics.**

 **Falling down as the winter takes one more cherry tree**

Go Eun Choi was a businesswoman, journeying home to visit a cousin, Jin-Taek. He was several years her junior, and was working on his Ph. D. in physics. They hadn't seen each other since they were children, so Natasha Romanoff was hoping to pass for the woman long enough to get him out of the country. AIM had been attempting to recruit him for some time, and was likely to step up their methods if he continued to refuse.

Wearing a hydrostatic mask to resemble her cover, Natasha boarded her plane and was pleased to find that her seat was in first class. It certainly paid off to work for someone else, she thought as she made herself comfortable. While she flew, she read up on the Choi family and Jin-Taek's projects. It was hardly surprising that AIM was after him, given the potentially violent nature of his work.

Fury had left the mask as well as an info packet with her ticket, and she'd been relieved to have so little to do on her own. After perusing the intel, she did her best to get some sleep – she didn't drop off quite as easily as Clint did in the field, but she managed. Going on an op tired was never a good idea, even with one as simple as this one. It was nice of Fury to start her out easy.

The plane landed in Seoul and she took a taxi to Jin-Taek's school. It was early afternoon, so she decided to search the labs first – it was unlikely he'd have gone home yet, according to her information. No one stopped her as she walked through them, enjoying the sight of all the interesting experiments being conducted. She was no tech-genius like Tony Stark, but she could appreciate what she saw.

"Go Eun?" someone questioned, and Natasha had the presence of mind to look up.

"Jin-Taek!" she called in response, walking across the lab. He was standing outside an office, having just pulled the door shut behind him.

"I didn't expect you until tomorrow," he said slowly, seeming suspicious.

"I caught an earlier flight," she responded, relieved that he was speaking English so her Korean didn't have to be put to the test yet.

"Hmm. Well, do you want to see what I'm working on?"

She smiled as she considered how to get him to leave the country. Her orders had not specified what should happen to his research, but she didn't feel comfortable leaving it here. "Of course, but then we need to talk," she told him quietly.

Frowning slightly, he nodded, and led the way into his office. She listened politely as he discussed his designs and she tried not to think about the kind of damage they could do to civilians. Much of her mission had been left up to her, without a specific time-table to get him out of the country. She felt that sooner was always better – tonight, if possible. Fury had given her coordinates to which to bring him after they landed in Poland. Why Poland she didn't know, but it was familiar enough to her not to be questioned.

"What do you think, Go Eun?" Jin-Taek asked, seeming concerned at her thoughtfulness.

"It's wonderful. But don't you worry about how it might be used?"

His suspicions seemed aroused again and he looked hard at her. "You are not Go Eun. I told you people before – I will not work for you!" he snarled, moving hastily back and reaching for a drawer in his desk.

She held up her hands. "You're right. I'm not Go Eun. But I am not from AIM, either. I'm here to get you and your work out of here," she told him slowly, gently.

He didn't seem much relieved by her statements, hand hovering over what was possibly a gun as he watched her. "Who are you? What did you do with Go Eun?"

"Who I am is not important. I work for people who want to keep you safe – and free to do what you want with your own research. Go Eun is fine. She will be waiting for you if you will come with me."

"Where?"

"Poland."

He frowned at her. "How do I know I can trust you?"

In the old days, she could say she represented SHIELD and that often worked. But not all the time. Sometimes she'd had to forcibly take people who wouldn't come willingly, though she hated doing that. She needed him to cooperate so he would get all the copies of his work. It would be easy for him to leave breadcrumbs behind if he didn't believe her.

"You need to pack up all your notes. I would recommend mailing them somewhere you can pick them up later. Then we need to go. I'm afraid you can't bring any personal effects, though someone can likely fetch those to you later. We don't want to make it obvious that you're fleeing," she explained.

"But how will I finish my work if I can't return here?" he wanted to know. His hand was no longer held over the drawer, but he was still glaring at her. From the way he was sitting, it was going to be hard to get him to open up to her.

In truth, she had no idea. Fury had told her to fetch him, so that's what she was going to do. Perhaps honesty would work best. "AIM has been after you, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you have reason to believe they won't take no for an answer?"

He paused, watching her. "Yes."

"Then you must come with me. I will get you away from their influence. I can't tell you what the future holds, but I know it will not be pleasant if you stay here," she told him firmly.

He wavered, considering. "Alright. Okay, I believe you, whoever you are."

"Thank you. What do you need to bring?"

That gave him pause and he looked over his desk slowly. "I can copy most of it digitally. Maybe all of it."

"That will make transporting it easier."

"What should I do with what's left?" he wanted to know.

She shrugged. "Burn it. Shred it. Whatever you think will keep it out of the wrong hands."

Nodding, he set to work. She kept an eye on him as well as on the lab outside. No one came or went while he backed up his hard drive and dumped a lot of files in a metal trashcan. After he double-checked his data and had copied the files twice onto different flash drives, he looked down at the pile and took a deep breath.

"I think I have what I need."

"Good to hear. What about this?" she asked, indicating the trash.

"Do you have a match?"

She smiled slightly. "I'm afraid not. You don't have some way to start a fire in here?" she suggested, motioning toward the laboratory.

"Oh. Of course." He picked up the trash can and pulled a Bunsen burner out of one of the cupboards and hooked it up. After igniting it, he hesitantly caught the rest of his files on fire, watching it with a mournful look.

While he did that, Natasha found an envelope for the drives, writing the address for a post office in Warsaw where he could pick it up. "Ready?" she called, tidying up his office so it didn't look quite so much like someone had packed and run.

"I suppose. What's that?" Jin-Taek wanted to know, suspicious again.

"All your research will beat us there, I'm sure. Let's post this and get to the airport."

"What about my – my stuff from home?"

She patted his shoulder. "Let's worry about saving your skin. Stuff can be replaced."

* * *

Under two hours later, they were in the airport, having sent his work on its way. It was good that he had no immediate family, or he probably wouldn't have come with her, she thought as they waited for their flight. He clearly found her appearance unsettling, and was unwilling to engage in small talk. That was unfortunate, since she usually found it calmed down the civilians with whom she had to work.

While they waited, she entered a code into the phone Fury had given her to indicate that things were proceeding as planned. Soon thereafter, the phone began to ring, and she stepped away from Jin-Taek to answer it.

"Yes?"

"You have him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was he any trouble?"

She considered. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Nick's smile was evident in his tone. "Always exceeding my expectations. I will hopefully be able to meet you at the airport, but I will send someone you know if I can't."

"Thank you, sir."

"Stay safe."

"You too, sir."


	9. And, In the Mist There, She Rides

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And in the mist there, she rides**

There was not, of course, a direct flight to Warsaw, Poland from Seoul, South Korea. It would have been quite a relief if there were – though Natasha might not have taken it. Yes, knowing that all she had to do was get him safely on the plane and then off of it again some hours later would be easier than stopping and walking through sometimes unfamiliar airports. But then it would be obvious where they were going, and Natasha didn't like that.

So she had booked several flights, with cash, that took them on a circuitous route through Asia and Eastern Europe. They stopped over in Mongolia for a couple of hours, then went south to India, where they spent the night. Jin-Taek was not very happy with that, especially as she hadn't allowed him to even pack a change of clothes. They were able to find what he needed, but he still refused to speak to her about anything that wasn't immediately relevant.

The room they shared was small, and Jin-Taek was clearly uncomfortable with it. They had bought toiletries and other supplies to make things easier. Natasha ordered room service and was relieved to take off the mask after it arrived. It soon became clear that Jin-Taek was similarly relieved – he actually started chatting with her a little. That made her feel better about how the rest of the journey would go.

Very early, they got up and headed to the airport for a flight to Kazakhstan, where they spent the afternoon. Jin-Taek appreciated that she could speak some of the language anywhere they landed, and was almost curious enough to ask her about who she was, or how she could do what she did. Not that she would have answered him, but his suspicious nature seemed to have decreased now that she no longer looked unsettlingly like his cousin.

A red eye took them to Odessa, Ukraine, and their flight to Warsaw was not until the following evening. Jin-Taek was tired of traveling and possibly regretting his decision to go with her. So she put them up in one of the fanciest hotels she could find, which was a bit difficult to do this early in the day. But she managed.

"This place is great," he told her, a rare smile on his lips.

She returned the expression as they waited to be shown to their room. By now they had a suitcase, so their presence shouldn't raise any flags. They were checking in under an old cover of hers that hadn't been used in years, and Natasha was looking forward to taking a nice bath. The bellhop took their bag and led the way to their room. Jin-Taek had wanted two rooms, both here and at previous hotels, but Natasha had pointed out the wisdom in staying together. He'd accepted it begrudgingly.

"Well. This is bigger than my apartment," he said once he'd seem the room. "No problem sharing this with you."

She glanced sharply at him for slipping in front of someone, both speaking English and arousing suspicion about their relationship, but then smiled politely. "Glad to hear it. Tip the man."

He looked momentarily at sea, but then did so. The bellhop thanked him in thickly accented English, then looked at Natasha again in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Never one to ignore her instincts, she checked his nametag and decided to do some digging when they were safely in the room.

Jin-Taek wandered around, looking out the window and checking the amenities while she sat on the bed, searching out any information on the bellhop.

"Have you been here before?" he asked, interrupting her.

"Yes."

Pausing, he turned to look at her. "Not a pleasant experience?"

A grim smile crossed her face as she thought of the scar on her abdomen. But she wasn't about to share her secrets with a client, even if honesty was how she'd gotten him here. "I've had worse."

"I see. What are you doing?"

"Just making sure we're going to get you safely to Warsaw tomorrow," she told him soothingly, glancing up.

He hummed something noncommittal, and returned to looking outside. "I haven't been in Europe before. My cousin spent a lot of time here, I think. Keeping the business afloat, maybe. I don't know – we weren't that close. I was looking forward to catching up with her," he added, with a sidelong glance.

Natasha smiled faintly. "Well, you still can."

"Will she be there tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure, Jin-Taek. It's a need to know kind of thing."

"Do you like your job? Whatever it is?"

She stopped researching to look up at him. "Of course. It's far too stressful to stick with it otherwise," she informed him with a smirk. "What about you?"

"Oh, I love my work. There's nothing I'd rather do," he said earnestly.

The earnestness made her smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Get some rest. We'll be here all day tomorrow."

Nodding, he pulled the drapes shut and went into the bathroom. The shower started a few moments later, and Natasha focused on trying to find out something about the bellhop. It was possible, of course, that she was either being paranoid or that he was just a creep, but she would be thorough. It was in her nature.

Nothing popped, and she settled back, dissatisfied. When Jin-Taek emerged, she switched with him and enjoyed a nice bath. She had checked the room and the surrounding areas for anything suspicious, so figured she had some time to herself. Traveling with a mark or a client was always a challenge – much harder than the travel she did on her own. It was like babysitting; though, to his credit, Jin-Taek hadn't been particularly difficult after the initial convincing.

After the bath, she checked on the sleeping scientist before going out onto the balcony. It was a warm night so the air was pleasant. If she had a choice, this was what she would choose. It might be thankless and dangerous, with plenty of headaches and difficulties, but it was where she felt most comfortable. No matter what she did, she couldn't escape the life she had been brought up to have – all she could do was use her skills for better things than her handlers would have chosen.

* * *

The following day passed quietly, with them staying in the room and keeping mostly to themselves. She could tell that Jin-Taek was becoming restless by mid-afternoon, but it was just about time to go to the airport anyway. They packed up and took their time getting there, stretching their legs before one last flight. After they were dropped off by a taxi, he offered to check the bag while she got them some snacks. Amused, she did so.

When she returned to the line, he was gone. A slight panic began to flutter in her chest as she looked around for him. Maybe he'd gone to the bathroom, or was waiting near security for her. "Excuse me, but have you seen this man?" she asked the woman at the counter, holding up her phone to show a picture.

"Yes, miss. He went out those doors," she responded helpfully.

Confused, Natasha hurried after him. What the hell was he doing going outside? He wasn't a smoker or anything, so should have had no reason to leave the building. Unable to resist speeding up to a jog, she made her way up and down the sidewalk in search of any sign of him. Passerby were generally unhelpful, as they were focused on getting home and hadn't noticed an Asian man walking by.

Cursing herself, Jin-Taek, the snacks, and anything else she could think of, she searched as methodically as her frantic mind would allow. Suddenly – there he was!

"Jin-Taek!" she shouted, breaking into a run.

He was getting into a vehicle, and a large man was standing behind him. "Kronas!" Jin-Taek hollered back before he was pushed inside and the door was slammed.

The large man got into the front seat and the car sped away just as she reached it. Memorizing the license plate and considering the word he'd shouted, she began to plan how to rescue him from what was surely AIM's men.


	10. And Castles Are Burning In My Heart

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And castles are burning in my heart**

The license plate belonged to a recently stolen car that was recovered, more or less unharmed, later that same day. So that led nowhere. Kronas was a better piece of information, and Natasha hoped that Jin-Taek wouldn't be punished for saying it. The company supplied oil and had operations in several major cities around the world. None in Odessa, though, so an in-person investigation would have to wait.

Natasha managed to keep her ticket to Warsaw, figuring that AIM wouldn't stick around town after taking Jin-Taek. The two of them had been several hours early for their flight, and she'd done what she could think of on the scene. There weren't any local leads to follow anyway, and maybe Fury could help. He knew why the physicist had been in danger in the first place, after all. So she settled in her seat and considered how many hours she had to rescue him.

It was unlikely that they took him just to kill him. They could have much more easily killed him there in Odessa, if that was the goal. No doubt they had some project that only he could complete for them. Good thing Fury had his cousin, Go Eun, because AIM would be searching out any kind of hostages that might make him work harder, or prevent his trying to escape. According to her intel, there were no such hostages readily available, which would make this easier.

The flight didn't last very long, which was a relief – Natasha hated inaction when there was a problem to solve. Even if waiting was often necessary in her line of work. She had tried to get in contact with Fury before getting on the plane, but was not successful. So she was not looking forward to going to the meet without her companion, and very much hoped that his cousin would not be there waiting. Dealing with her failure would be hard enough without a shocked civilian present.

From the airport she took a taxi to a hotel, walked a few blocks, took another taxi, and walked again until she got to a park. It was small and pretty empty this late at night. In another life, she might have been worried about her safety in such a place. But she rarely worried about that anymore. Settling on a bench, she watched the rare passerby and waited patiently, going over what she would say.

"They got him?" Nick's voice interrupted her, and she looked up sharply.

"Yeah." She was relieved to see he was alone. Well, relatively – it was quite possibly that the other park-goers were his people.

"Where?" he wanted to know, shifting his weight.

"Odessa."

He smiled grimly. "You don't have your best luck there, seems like."

"I guess not," was her quiet response. "What are we going to do about this?"

Nick let out a sigh as he sank onto the bench next to her. "This isn't SHIELD, Natasha. We don't have the resources to track down AIM."

"Then how did you – ?"

"Know that he was being approached? You remember Helen Cho?"

Surprised by the question, she nodded slowly. "The woman who made Vision? Of course. I thought she went back to South Korea after the Accords."

"She didn't. Moved to Arizona with her husband."

"Why?" Given the woman's interest in Thor, she hadn't expected a husband to be in the picture. Then again, it was Thor.

Shrugging, Nick glanced at her. "Could be she didn't like how the Accords might refer to her. Could be U-GIN didn't welcome her back after she left them to work with the heroes. Could be she likes a dry heat."

She snorted. "I'm sure that's it."

"Jin-Taek Choi used to be one of her lab assistants. He did some work on the project before going his own way, but they stay in touch. When he asked her for advice about being harassed, she let me know."

Natasha swallowed to keep her voice neutral when she spoke again. "She knew how to contact you?"

Understanding, Nick was silent for a few moments. "I didn't abandon you."

"No?" she asked politely.

"You chose not to come with me. I let you do your thing for a year, and then, when we met again, you were happy to stay on as an Avenger. I wasn't going to drag you back down into this when you could be a hero. I'm glad Clint put us back in touch after all that with General Ross."

She didn't answer – all the things she wanted to say were piling up and she couldn't pick one.

"I'm sorry, Natasha," he offered after a pause.

"Me too," she replied as she got to her feet.

"What are you going to do?"

She glanced back at him, angry. "I'm going to save Jin-Taek, even if I have to do it alone."

"Natasha," Nick said gently, standing as well. "You don't have to be alone."

"What's my other option, Nick? Because it sounds like you've washed your hands of him," she replied coldly.

He folded his arms across his chest, clearly unused to being addressed like that. "We don't have the resources, but you were always my best agent. If you can find him, I may be able to help you get him out."

Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. "Thank you, Nick." She held out her hand, and he shook it. "Trail's getting cold – I'll talk to you when I can."

"Good luck," he called after her, and she hurried away, trying not to think about how much the former Director of SHIELD was showing his age.

* * *

Now came the unglamorous part, the part where she read files and compiled data. The part where she looked at maps and press releases to figure out where ever AIM had influence. The part where she researched past and present employees and any land they were holding that might be a convenient storage location for a prisoner.

It was boring and it took several days. Natasha stayed in Warsaw throughout, having nowhere else to go in particular. Nick sent another apology – short and to the point, and she supposed she would have to start forgiving the people in her life who had left her or she would be alone for a long time.

Steve had understood her, but caused her to lose the only family she had. Clint had retired instead of dealing with it, and then been on the opposite side. Bruce… Well, he'd left, too. And Nick hadn't trusted her with the fact that he hadn't been killed by the Winter Soldier, and now hadn't trusted her to know where he was while he worked in the shadows after SHIELD fell. It was beginning to seem like this whole friendship thing wasn't working out.

Though research and analyzing had never been her part of the job, she was good at it. Fieldwork was where she shined, but she had served however possible. And, with the Avengers, it was important to hone other skills because she was significantly outmatched by the others on her team in terms of combat abilities. So she methodically worked her way through what most of her peers considered the boring part of the job until she had a good picture of places to investigate.

Then she began investigations in person. She burned through covers as she traveled, flirting at fancy parties, interrogating people of interest (both subtly and directly), infiltrating office buildings and bases, gathering more information from AIM's own databases, until the search brought up a very important revelation: Jin-Taek Choi was nowhere to be found.


	11. And, As I Twist, I Hold Tight

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And as I twist, I hold tight**

In Berlin, Germany, Sharon Carter was finally going home after a long day. She unlocked the door of her apartment, then froze. Something was different – she wasn't sure what, but she knew it was something. Pulling out her weapon, she made her way slowly through the doorway, looking hard into the darkness.

A lamp switched on, and Natasha Romanoff could be seen sitting comfortably in the best chair in her living room. "Hello, nurse," the Black Widow said with a smile.

"Romanoff? What are you doing here?" Sharon replied curtly, shutting the door quickly behind her and holstering her weapon.

"Agent 13. I'd heard of you, you know, back then. Didn't expect you to be the nurse Steve was crushing on," Natasha continued.

The statement caused Sharon to color ever so slightly, and Natasha grinned – which did nothing to relax Sharon. "What do you want? I haven't seen Steve since they escaped."

"Really? Because I seem to remember he and Sam having some contraband that definitely didn't leave our custody when the Winter Soldier did."

Sharon folded her arms over her chest and looked appraisingly at Natasha. "The cameras were down and we were all a little distracted. Who's to say they didn't fetch their gear before escaping?"

"Well, Steve escaped by falling off the roof with a helicopter, so I think that's unlikely," Natasha replied smoothly, standing up.

"What about Wilson? No idea how he got out. Or what he did before he left," Sharon added, adopting a casual stance that Natasha could see through immediately.

Raising an eyebrow appraisingly, Natasha walked closer and looked her up and down. "I hope you're a better liar on the job. You must be, if you still work here," she corrected herself.

"I wasn't expecting company," Sharon replied, and Natasha laughed.

"I try to be unexpected. It's good practice."

"Yes," Sharon agreed slowly, watching the other agent. "Is this a social call or – ?"

Smiling faintly at the suggestion, Natasha made her way toward the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water nonchalantly. "Steve was with you when you came here after Director Carter's funeral in London. Were you helping him the whole time?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Answer the question, Sharon," Natasha ordered tiredly. Technically, she did outrank the other woman, even if such things were no longer relevant.

Sharon frowned at her. "They would have killed Barnes. I was just giving him a chance."

"For Steve?"

"For justice."

Smiling again, Natasha took a drink and watched the other woman shift slightly. "You got a soft spot for Barnes? Sending Steve to save his life and all."

"Only met him once and he tried to kill me, so, no, not really."

"That does put a damper on a relationship," Natasha agreed with a bitter twist of her lips. "But Steve. You seem to get along with him, whether or not you pulled strings for him."

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Sharon asked archly.

Natasha laughed out loud at that. "Not at all," she assured her.

"Wilson, then? He's cute. Can't mean Stark, though."

Clearing her throat, Natasha hid a smile and got to the point. "None of that is relevant. Steve shares your passion for justice, so I'm sure you'll be very happy together. That's not why I'm here."

"Enlighten me."

"I lost somebody." Sharon looked immediately sympathetic and Natasha hastened to continue. "I mean, I was escorting a scientist out of South Korea and AIM took him out from under me. I need to find him."

"I see."

Natasha tossed a flash drive to Sharon, who caught it easily. "Here's all I have on AIM. It's not enough. But maybe you can add to it with what the CIA knows about them, and then I'll have a chance at finding this guy."

After studying the drive for a moment, Sharon looked back up at Natasha. "Why would you think I'd help you?"

"I messed up and now he's basically a slave, being forced to make something that will hurt a lot of civilians. You're going to help me because it's the right thing to do. And because we were never on opposite sides," she added, looking intently at Agent 13.

"What will you do when you find him?" Sharon wanted to know.

"Fury didn't give me any orders, other than to retrieve him. But I might be able to find something sufficiently incriminating for your people to be interested," she offered.

Natasha waited in silence while Sharon thought it over. Sharon wasn't her only option, but pretty close. SHIELD had been gone for two years – her allies and friends from there had mostly moved onto other jobs. Maria was working for Stark now, Melinda was off the grid. The other contacts who got her information were not necessarily working in a strictly legal fashion, and thus could not keep tabs on things as well as a government agency could. Plus, she'd already exhausted those resources gathering the information she had.

No, AIM was certainly under the watch of the CIA, and Sharon could get her what she needed to finish this. If the woman refused, Natasha wouldn't force her, but she did hope that she could count on her. Agent 13's reputation indicated that she could, even if a lot had changed since the agency went down.

"Okay. What do you need?" Sharon said at last, and Natasha smiled in relief.

* * *

The evening was spent going over all the information Natasha had. She described the locations to which she had been, as well as why she'd chosen not to visit the others. Sharon listened quietly for most of it, but was able to offer some good insight into the situation as the briefing progressed. It took a long time, and Sharon had the foresight to order them a pizza while they worked. The gesture shouldn't have given Natasha as much pause as it did, and she began to wonder if maybe she'd found a more permanent ally than previously thought.

* * *

"So then Steve says, yep, we're getting married, in the most unconvincing tone you can imagine."

Sharon laughed. "That's a spot-on impression, by the way."

Grinning, Natasha picked up another slice of pizza. Sharon's computer was running through data – it wasn't everything, but more than Natasha had found, so they were waiting to get results. And the silence had stretched on for long enough before they found a subject about which they could converse.

"Thank you. I worked very hard on it. Anyway, but the guy believed him, so I guess Steve's not that bad at being under cover."

"Well, he did manage to evade us pretty well here recently," Sharon pointed out.

"Maybe he's gotten better," Natasha conceded. "Or maybe having Sam and Barnes along helped out there."

Nodding, Sharon took a bite of her dinner and considered. "Especially Barnes. We'd never have found him if the whole world weren't looking. And, even then, it was a near thing."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed quietly.

Something about her tone made Sharon glance up sharply. "You don't approve of Steve's best friend? I mean, he did try to kill us, but I don't think we can really blame him for that," she added, teasingly.

Returning her smile, Natasha shrugged. "Well, you know, I probably wouldn't mind if he hadn't made such a habit of it."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about a couple years ago. I just saw him out the window after he shot Fury – I was glad not to see him again. But you had more run-ins with him?"

"I did."

Sensing the conversation was over, Sharon cast about for something else to say. "So, Fury's not dead?"

Startled, Natasha nodded. "No, just undercover. With HYDRA and everything, he thought it would be best to lie low for a while. And now with the Accords… Well, hasn't been much call for him to come back."

"I'm glad to hear he's alright. He was a good boss, better than my current one. So, if he does take up his old job, I'd be first in line to work for him," she continued, smiling.

"I'll tell him."

Clearing her throat, Sharon stood up. "It's late. I'll see what I can dig up at work tomorrow. You can use the spare bedroom. Good night."

"Sharon?"

"Yeah?" she asked, pausing as she made her way out of the kitchen.

"Thank you," Natasha told her earnestly.

Smiling, Sharon nodded, then disappeared around the corner, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts.


	12. And I Ride to Work Every Morning

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And I ride to work every morning, wondering why**

The screaming was back. She hadn't heard it in years, but… Even while she covered her ears, it was in her head. Going on and on, long past when he should have tired himself out, and it was her fault. Then that face, unrecognizing, a stranger's face, and the metal hand around her neck –

"Hey, Natasha?"

She awoke with a start, almost falling off of the couch where she had been dozing. "Sharon. You're back. How was your day?" she asked, recovering quickly.

Sharon looked down at her skeptically as she stretched with forced nonchalance. "Fine. How was yours?"

"A bit dull. Any luck?"

Smiling slightly, Sharon walked over to her laptop. "Yeah. I hope you slept well because it's a long flight to Beringovsky."

Natasha quickly got to her feet to join the other woman, who was looking at a map. "You're sure?"

"Nothing's ever certain. But there's some good chatter that there was a recent acquisition. There's a plant owned by Kronas Corp. in the area. AIM's been sending supplies and people there for the last couple weeks."

Nodding, Natasha began pulling her boots on. "It's not exactly a prime vacation spot," she stated lightly.

"Natasha… What's your plan?" Sharon asked quietly.

"Get in, find Jin-Taek, get him out, escape?" she offered with a grin.

Sharon was less than amused. "You think you can handle it by yourself?"

"Your concern is very touching but not very flattering," Natasha replied as she began gathering her information and other accoutrements.

To her surprise, Sharon put a hand on her arm. "SHIELD's gone, the Avengers are effectively gone. Even if Fury is alive, he doesn't have the resources to rescue you. And, I'd imagine, neither does Steve."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That you don't do this alone."

"You offering to come? I know we had a nice evening last night, but I didn't think we'd become best friends," Natasha deflected with a smile.

Sharon took a deep breath, looking away for a moment. "AIM almost got the best of Tony Stark a couple years ago. They've been on our radar ever since, but we aren't SHIELD. We don't know as much about them as we should."

"I'll be fine," Natasha insisted, turning away.

"No, you won't. Let me come with you. I was part of SHIELD Special Service, I'm more than qualified to go into the field on an op like this," Sharon continued when Natasha tried to interrupt.

"That was two years ago."

Frowning slightly, Sharon took a step forward. "Don't you think we've all lost enough lately? What would Fury say, or Steve? Or Barton, if you were lost to AIM just because you think you work better alone."

"I do."

"You need backup. It doesn't have to be me, but you shouldn't do this without it."

Though her gut reaction was to refuse, Natasha forced herself to stop and consider the offer. The city was not one with which she was familiar, and she had not personally encountered AIM before. Extraction was always a challenging part of the job, so having someone on hand to help out would not go unappreciated. Even if things went smoothly, it might be essential to have a sort of getaway driver.

Sharon clearly wasn't going to turn her in to Ross or the task force, despite how things ended with T'Challa. The CIA was not, as far as she knew, looking for her in particular (no more than the rest of the missing Avengers), so this shouldn't be a trick. Being a spy often involved a strange combination of trusting no one while regularly putting your life in someone else's hands. Was she willing to trust Sharon that far?

The woman had gotten very high in the ranks of SHIELD, so Fury must have trusted her. She was given the job of protecting Captain America himself, after all. Things had changed since then, of course, but maybe it would pay off. Natasha had done plenty of solo missions in her life, for SHIELD and for the Red Room. But she didn't think either had sent her on an extraction into a potentially militarized base all by herself. There was always at least a team waiting in the wings, if not a partner or two with her.

"Fine. But follow my lead."

Sharon nodded curtly, and they got ready to go.

* * *

It was a long flight to Beringovsky, with a few layovers along the way. Sharon proved to be a much more interesting traveling companion than Jin-Taek, but that might have been because of their shared profession. Though neither could go into details about ops or marks, they could discuss some of the more amusing misfires and mistakes they'd been through. They also compared notes on their respective training programs, and Natasha was intrigued by how an intelligence organization honed their people without removing their agency.

The sun was just setting when they arrived in the city, or, technically, inhabited locality (whatever that meant). The airport was tiny and it was a challenge for the two of them to blend in with the small number of locals. Sharon had devised covers for them, something about being inspectors from Moscow, on the way to look at the Kronas facility outside of town. Natasha wasn't sure it was the best choice in covers, but no one seemed overly interested in what they were doing.

They rented a car and drove out to the place right away, figuring there was no time like the present. It was not hard to find the facility, as the only road that went that far out of town dead-ended there. Since there was the airport and the port, and the next closest settlement was hundreds of kilometers away, there was no reason for the road system to go any further.

The two spies crouched in the snow behind a hill, looking over it at the Kronas facility. It was not very large, and looked like it had been built in the last few years. There were four sentries, one for each wall of the place, so it was not particularly well-guarded. The only entrance was a large metal gate on the northwest corner. Even if it was after hours and most people had gone home, it would be quite a challenge to get inside without attracting notice.

"What's our play?" Natasha asked.

Sharon shrugged. "See if our inspector's badges are worth anything?"

Smiling grimly, Natasha nodded. "Alright. What do we do if they're not?"

"Get in anyway."

"I like your style. You drive," Natasha added as she headed back to their rented car.

They drove up to the gate and a guard came out to talk to them. Sharon handed over their badges and looked at him very seriously – which was the correct way to behave, Natasha thought approvingly. There was a time for flirting your way through closed doors, but inspectors from the government would be cold and direct.

"I'm going to have to radio this in," he told them firmly.

"Of course," Sharon replied.

The wind whistled by and Natasha reflected that they could have brought warmer coats. She watched the guard talking on his radio and felt a chill down her spine that was not due to the weather. He kept glancing at them with an odd expression.

"We might need to abort," Natasha whispered, barely moving her mouth.

Sharon didn't react visibly, but her sharp intake of breath could be heard. "He is a bit suspicious," she agreed.

Before they could make any further plans, the man returned. "Please, come in," he told them. The large door began opening and the two women exchanged glances.

"Let's see how far we can go," Natasha muttered, and Sharon gave the slightest of nods.

"Thank you," Sharon said to the guard, driving forward. They were directed to park along the wall where there were a few other vehicles, and a nicely dressed woman met them as they were getting out of the car.

"Hello. My name is Katya. I will be showing you the facility. Please let me know if you have any questions," she told them stiffly. "This way, please."

They followed Katya as she led them through the parking area and to some offices. Both listened intently as she described their use and how the work they were doing would improve the lives of their citizens. Then she took them to the laboratory in the basement. It was currently empty, as the offices had been, but she described the experiments being done with vigor. When she finished, two guards appeared to flank her.

"Any questions?" Katya asked.

Natasha glanced at Sharon before returning her attention to the woman. "Who are these nice gentlemen?"

"Ivan and Dmitri."

"Hello, Natalia," Dmitri said politely.

"Sharon, get out of here," Natasha whispered urgently.

"I won't leave you," Sharon insisted.

Pulling out her stingers, Natasha glared at her. "I expect to be rescued. Now, run." While her partner escaped, she used her stingers and Widow's bites to prevent anyone else from leaving the room. Ivan went down soon enough and Katya hid, but Dmitri was more of a challenge. Especially because he was apparently just a distraction for Katya to come out of nowhere with some kind of syringe. It took the woman a few tries, but Natasha felt herself losing consciousness and hoped that Sharon had gotten out safely.


	13. Sit in the Chair and Be Good Now

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **"Sit in the chair and be good now"**

She was one of the 28 ballerinas of the Bolshoi. The training was hard, but the glory of the Soviet culture, and the warmth of her parents … her parents?

No, that's not right.

She was one of the 28 Black Widow agents with the Red Room. Training was hard, but the glory of the Soviet supremacy, and the warmth of her parents – her parents – makes up for –

She couldn't tell what was real anymore.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff couldn't remember her family. She must have had one, though, right? Or maybe she was an orphan, and that's how the Red Room got ahold of her. It would make sense for them to go looking amongst those who wouldn't be missed for new recruits. Particularly given what happened to those recruits. However she spent the first few years of life, all she knew was the Red Room.

Under their strict training regimen, she learned a great deal. The girls had a basic education – reading, writing, arithmetic – before getting into more important skills. History was taught, but not in depth and highly redacted. After she'd escaped, Natasha had a lot of catching up to do to see how the world really worked outside of the Soviet Union, the fall of which did nothing to deter those who facilitated projects like the Red Room.

They were all around the same age, the ballerinas – no, the Black Widows. It was very competitive. Like a real ballet troupe, but much more so. Why ballet? Maybe because high society still saw ballets, and would think nothing of a Russian girl in their midst if she were a prima ballerina. They wouldn't be as on guard as they might otherwise. Ballerinas were artists and would not be suspected of ulterior motives.

That was the idea, anyway. But perhaps it was really because it was a good way for a group of girls to learn to use their bodies in a way that would lend itself well to less artistic and more mercenary pursuits. Of course, that might have just been a story they told her. To cover up the ugliness of the Red Room, replace it with a dance studio. To assuage her of guilt, make her think she had outperformed the others to earn her rank, not left them to die in the snow.

Grigor Pchelintsov oversaw their regular psychological evaluations. Later, when SHIELD had wanted to give her an evaluation, she had resisted and fought back until she found out all that was required of her was to answer some questions. The ones in the Red Room had been more … invasive. The girls would be strapped down while a piece of machinery closed around their heads. And it hurt. The screams echoed throughout the facility whenever it was in use.

* * *

Once, in her fifth year, Natasha snuck down to watch Grigor work. He sat behind a monitor and read it carefully while Elena writhed on the other end of the machine. Though she studied it closely, Natasha couldn't make any headway in understanding what he could possibly be seeing. She was punished for her curiosity.

* * *

When they weren't at each other's throats, the girls were friendly with each other. They were of an age, and socialization happened. It was frowned upon by their superiors, who devised numerous training exercises to drive them apart. The result was a friendly façade in the dormitories or the dining hall, and a pervasive distrust of each other the rest of the time. It was a good mindset for a spy to have, as one would never know if a former ally had been turned.

Natalia's closest friend was a brunette called Eva. They were about the same size, so often were called upon to spar with each other. In spite of this, the two got along well and ate most of their meals together. The group of twenty-eight had many such pairings in the early days. Natalia and Eva stayed friends for much longer than the others. Perhaps because they were learning at about the same rate.

In the Red Room, improving skills was paramount. Those who fell behind were given few chances to catch up. Natalia was aware of what happened to the ones who failed. A Black Widow had to be ready to kill and defend her life at any moment. So, if one was not meeting expectations, her sparring partner and she would face a final challenge. The girl who was performing poorly would try to survive while her partner tried to kill her. If she evaded long enough, or was able to put her partner out of commission (preferably not by killing her, but it happened), then she could stay.

It was a brutal life. Survival was all that mattered. Later, after she'd been exposed to how other people lived their lives, Natasha had done a lot of research into how the Red Room was started. Into how such a place could not only exist, but thrive. For years. Decades. The unnamed department that was in charge of it had drawn inspiration from a similar project, and taken it to the extreme. They would have the best agents because they knew nothing but to serve the Red Room. There were no distractions, nothing that could matter more than a mission. Any hint of something like that was dealt with severely.

* * *

"Tell him she's waking up," a voice floated above Natasha's head and she wondered confusedly what was happening. But the confusion didn't last long. Her training had involved being drugged with all kinds of incapacitating agents. They had used ketamine, she decided as she came back into herself.

She was lying on a gurney of some sort, tied down. That, coupled with the Red Room memories in her head, made the wings of panic flutter in her chest. With difficulty, she pushed it down. Sharon had gotten out. She had to have. And would be figuring out a way to rescue her. And hopefully Jin-Taek, if he was here. If he wasn't, she would have to see about questioning these people concerning his whereabouts.

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked a couple times against the bright lights shining in her face. She was in what was likely a basement, given the concrete walls. It matched both the size and design of the one where the laboratory had been, and she thought bitterly about how there was always a sub-basement with these kinds of people. The rest of the room was hard to make out, as it was not nearly so well-lit as her corner, but she could see perhaps three or four shadowy figures watching her.

It appeared that there were cells on the far wall – the bars cast strange shadows. She couldn't tell if they were occupied or not. But she was optimistic that she had, in fact, found her missing scientist. And maybe some other folks who deserved to be freed. Now, just to figure out a way to get free herself so she could get to work on that.

A stillness in the figures brought her attention back to them and she became aware of someone walking down the stairs to her right. It was a heavy tread, from boots being worn by a man who was on the tall side. He had black hair streaked with grey and she was surprised to find that he looked familiar. But distantly, like she'd known him in a dream. Which probably meant he had been involved in the Red Room. Unfortunately.

"Natalia Romanova. How strange to meet you here," the man said quietly, walking over to her.

"I didn't think you'd sink so low as to work for AIM," she shot back.

That amused him. "I don't. They work for me, little Widow. They are… useful to me."

"What are you going to do with Jin-Taek?" she demanded.

He smiled. "It's not him whom I wanted."

It was useless to struggle against her bonds, but she did it anyway as something about his tone jogged her memory. He was Aleksander Lukin, the general in command of Department X. Which included the creation of the Black Widow program.

"I'm so glad to have you back. Let's get to work, shall we?"


	14. And Become All That They Told You

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **"And become all that they told you"**

Unsurprisingly, Lukin did not wait for her consent. Instead, he wheeled the gurney over to an apparatus that Natasha would rather not inspect any more closely.

"Where's Sharon?"

"Your … associate? I'm afraid she slipped through some incompetent fingers," he answered darkly, glaring in the direction of the other people in the room. "But we won't be here long enough for her to mount a rescue, I can assure you."

"You're scared of one agent out in the cold? This place seems to have the whole setup you need," Natasha told him.

He smiled slightly. "Of course, little Widow. It was a delight to hear that you were on your way to us. I do hate having to move around. But sacrifices must be made to keep your friend from getting in over her head. She's not like you, is she?"

"I don't know what you mean," was her cold reply. "Did you send Dmitri after me in Scotland?"

Lukin rolled his eyes. "He's a poor servant. I'll have to replace him soon. He was not supposed to engage with you until we were ready to receive you."

"What do you want with me?"

"The same thing everyone wants with you. To use your skills so I don't have to get my hands dirty."

Natasha glowered at him, hating the vulnerability she felt. It was like old times. She hated old times. Though she hadn't worked directly with Lukin before, only having seen him on one or two occasions in the background. The Widow program wasn't his main focus. It was unlikely he retained his status in the government, since the Red Room was gone and the unnamed department was no longer funded. As far as her sources could tell, anyway.

"That's old news. I don't do that anymore," she explained calmly.

"Oh? Well, I'm sure we can change your mind. Madame B, come here please."

It was something of a shock to see her old headmistress. The years had been unusually kind to her. The woman came forward and looked sympathetically at Natasha.

"I've missed you. Though it's been a pleasure watching you use all the skills I taught you," Madame B explained gently.

" _You_ taught me?" Natasha growled. "Lukin, I don't need a reunion. Whatever you're going to do, just do it."

Lukin smiled at her. "Unfortunately, Professor Pchelintsov is … no longer with us. So you won't be getting an exciting new cover. But I wouldn't inflict pain on you without a good reason," he assured her while she snorted derisively. "What we can do is erase the recent years, so you forget that you ever left us."

"It won't work," she told him stubbornly.

"Why not?" Madame B asked soothingly. "It will be just like it used to be."

Throwing herself against the straps on her right, Natasha managed to knock the gurney to the floor. The motion dislodged her bonds enough to start wriggling free. But Dmitri came up and lifted her back into place easily before she could get far.

"Sloppy," Madame B told her in the same disappointed tone Natasha remembered.

"I won't serve you even if you make me forget everything that's happened!" Natasha snarled.

Lukin paused to look over at her from where he was typing commands into the machine. "What makes you so sure, Natalia? You know how effective this is."

She took a deep breath. "Because the people closest to me aren't here. Eva and – and – "

"The American?" Madame B offered, slightly disgusted by having to say it.

"Exactly."

Lukin's smile was cold as he walked over to look her in the eye. "Then you won't have any reason to leave us. I'm sure we can convince you why they're no longer part of your life, don't you think? Now, relax. I'm told it helps."

Whether it did or not didn't matter, because there was no way Natasha was just going to sit back and take this. Dmitri remained just out of arm's length, but they hadn't thought to search her. While they were talking, she had managed to get a hand to her pocket, and knocking herself over had caused her knife to slide into her hand. Carefully, she positioned it along her arm so that shifting her weight caused it to start cutting through the strap that crossed her midsection.

Madame B stepped back, next to Dmitri, and Lukin himself fitted the metal contraption around her face. She held very still, as was expected of her, and waited for her chance. One broken strap wasn't enough, but it was all she had. So, when Lukin moved away from her, she twisted enough to pop the last few threads. Then she slashed quickly at the other straps, leaping from the gurney.

Considerably startled, the others jumped back before beginning to shout orders. Dmitri closed in on her, but she used the same move that had incapacitated him in Scotland to bring him down again. No wonder Lukin was disappointed in him – she would never lose to the same attack twice in a row. One of the shadowy figures came forward and she recognized him as the other guard, Ivan. He went down quickly, too.

Then Natasha ran. While she might be able to overpower everyone in the room, running was better than taking that risk. Within moments, she was at the stairs, then making her way up them two at a time. The laboratory above was still empty, and she sped through it toward the offices, mostly ignoring the yelling that followed her.

Out of nowhere, a person-shaped blur appeared and struck her in the chest. Taken by surprise since she hadn't expected to see anyone until she reached the front gate, Natasha dropped back and hissed in pain. Her assailant was a blond woman. She thought blearily that it might be Sharon, but was clearly not. Glancing down, she was dismayed to see a syringe in her chest. Empty now.

"Who – ?" she began confusedly as she stumbled.

"Go to sleep, Widow. I'm looking forward to working with you," the unfamiliar woman said before Natasha dropped to the ground.

* * *

 _She was in the snow. It was freezing. The other girls were huddled around a fire, and they were all staring at the meager portion of food. Not enough for them all – not even enough for two. They hadn't been allowed to eat for several days before being sent here. They would not survive this._

* * *

 _"Your size is your weakness. Use it against your opponent to tire them out," the American was saying. He glanced at her and she offered him a smile. After a moment, he returned it._

* * *

 _"Again," Madame B ordered, walking amongst them while they did their exercises. The pain was excruciating and Natalia struggled to hold her pose._

* * *

 _Eva smiled at her across the table as they shared a hard-won sweet – a cookie, maybe. "Why don't they have these all the time?"_

 _"Because then it wouldn't be special," Natalia told her cheekily._

* * *

 _"You are unbreakable, Natalia. You could be our best agent. Prove yourself," Madame B told her as she stood, facing a pale, wide-eyed Eva. Taking a deep breath, Natalia prepared to attack._

* * *

"Natasha? Natasha!" a voice interrupted, sounding very far away.

"Sharon?" she murmured slowly, feeling like she was trying to move through molasses.

She felt straps across her body being removed. "Yes, come on, Natasha, come back," Sharon continued.

It was enough of an order for Natasha to shake off her thoughts and smile at Sharon. "I could kiss you," she told her fervently.

That gave Sharon pause, and she smiled slightly. "Please don't. Come on, we have secured the place, and we have a doctor standing by."

"Oh, good, just what I wanted," Natasha muttered as she pulled herself to her feet.


	15. The White Coats Enter the Room and I'm

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! One chapter after this, but there will be a couple sequels to flesh out BuckyNat :)**

 **The white coats enter the room and I'm callin' my baby**

Sharon helped Natasha leave the subbasement, since her legs felt shaky. She realized that she had been hooked up to the machine, and thought a little frantically about all the things that had happened recently. Coming here with Sharon was pretty clear, which convinced her – Sharon must have gotten there before they really got to work. Not that she wouldn't have minded some memories being erased, but she wasn't going to mention that to anyone. Best to keep it all and deal with it like normal people did.

There were agents around, presumably some CIA, but Natasha was sure most of them were Russian. She didn't really care at that point what the story was, being mostly relieved that things had gone roughly according to plan. Once they were outside, Sharon led her toward an ambulance where a few people were milling around.

"Jin-Taek!" Natasha called, very pleased to see him.

He smiled faintly at her, looking none the worse for wear. "Thank you for rescuing me," he told her formally.

"Of course. I hope you weren't mistreated."

"Not particularly," he replied with nod to Sharon.

There were a few other people standing with him, and he introduced them as other taken scientists. She greeted them politely before Sharon pulled her away to see a doctor. The man in question was not overly friendly, but gave her a clean bill of health after an efficient examination. Of course, there was no way for him to tell if they'd done anything to her mind, she thought with some apprehension. Maybe Fury had some people who could look into it. Speaking of…

"Sharon, what's going to happen to them?"

"The people who were holding you hostage? They've been taken into custody. They'll go to trial. With any luck, they'll be facing jail time. Why?"

Natasha looked across the snowy field at the police car into which Lukin was being loaded. A brief survey showed someone missing – the blond woman who had attacked her. Of course, that might have been a dream, she thought doubtfully.

"How did storming the castle go? Did you get everyone?" she asked casually.

"It was fine, Natasha. You're safe, everyone is taken care of. I got out okay and called for reinforcements. I'll probably catch hell when I get back to Germany, maybe get sent back home, but," she trailed off, shrugging.

"What's going to happen to all of it?"

Sharon glanced in the direction Natasha was gesturing. "That is, fortunately, out of my jurisdiction. I imagine it will end up in an evidence room somewhere, for a while at least."

"Hmm. Well, I guess this is goodbye."

The shocked look on Sharon's face would have been funny if it weren't so hurt. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm a fugitive and your discussion with your bosses will go better if you say I kidnapped you. Or at least coerced you. It's not incorrect," she added with a smile.

The former SHIELD agent stared at her for a long moment. "You're right," she muttered at last. "I hate to say it, but you're right. You will… You'll get out of here okay? You don't need some help tonight?"

"It's almost morning," Natasha corrected with a smirk. "I'll be fine. Better already. Go help your people. I'm sure the local officers could use someone of your caliber telling them what to do."

Sharon looked embarrassed at the compliment, but glanced in the direction of the mostly controlled chaos. That was enough for Natasha to slip away. She looped around the mess to get back into the facility to pick some things up before she left.

* * *

It took nearly twenty-four hours to get to the safe house in Cairo, Egypt. That was more than enough of a trip, and Natasha settled in to get some real rest. When she'd recovered, a day or two from now, she had a more stressful trip in mind. So, for now, she would wait until she was up for it.

First order of business was to talk to Nick, apologizing for her mistakes. He took them in stride and looked forward to seeing Jin-Taek in a couple days. Sharon would certainly be willing to escort him, if he needed it. Natasha wasn't sure it was, but Poland was roughly on Sharon's way, in any case. She could tell Nick wanted to say more, to give her a new job. But her memories had been stirred and she needed to take care of things first. When she got off the phone, she considered calling Clint, but, instead, went out onto the porch to watch the sunrise and think about something she hadn't thought about in a long time.

* * *

The Red Room became possible after the undesignated department, called Department X, had proven itself with another project. Vasily Karpov was in charge of the Winter Soldier Project. How it had begun or who had run it before him was unknown, as the agent in question was clearly not Russian. Karpov kept his secrets to himself, but showed what could be done with the available technology and techniques to ensure unquestioned loyalty.

Why they chose girls was unclear, and the eventual goal of the Black Widow program was also in question. But it was a thriving branch of the department. An attempt was made to do the same with male students, called the Wolf Spiders, though it lacked the success of the Widows. During their training phases, the Widows proved themselves to be valuable assets to their government.

Natasha didn't know if HYDRA was involved with the Widows like they had been with the Winter Soldier. The lines were blurred and everything was secrets wrapped in secrets. It had taken her years to find out anything true about her old life, anything other than her own, possibly augmented, experiences. Whoever was pulling the strings, it slowly became clear to her that loyalty was one thing, but what was being asked of her was not something she was willing to continue giving up.

It started with Eva. Though she had known from the beginning that friendships were unwise, it was still a shock to have to kill her. It was in order to survive and Natasha wouldn't dwell on that part of her history. Not when she'd had no other choice. Or so she thought at the time. She knew now that she could have let Eva live and suffered the consequences, however final those might have been. It would have been better than living with the guilt.

But that was something she was used to, something she had seen many times before. The twenty-eight of them were much reduced by the time Eva was no longer passing the tests. Natasha had thought Eva might beat her, and, for the first time, she became afraid for her life in a tangible way. Not just about surviving, not striving to be the best, but she actually thought about death and came to an important conclusion – she didn't want to die here.

Around that time, the American was brought in to teach them how to fight, and how to blend in with their enemies. He was the Winter Soldier, a ghost, and they were all afraid of him. For a while. But he was a good teacher, albeit ungentle. Perhaps because she was more frightened of losing her edge than she would ever be of him, she sought him out for more personalized instruction.

They were sent into the field together and that's when things changed. Maybe because they both understood that they were being used, maybe because they were just looking to regain some humanity in an environment where only their skills were valued, but they became close. Closer than their superiors allowed.

So, one day, when they were together, the door was broken down and Madame B brought in agents to force them apart. They fought, but it was no use. There was no escape. So the American was dragged away from her and put in that horrible chair. She was forced to watch while his screams echoed in the chamber, until they finished and he looked at her without any recognition in his eyes.

That was when she decided to leave. It took time – especially given how carefully they watched her after what Madame B referred to as the incident. She applied herself to her training, and the American was never seen in the Red Room facility again. Finally, when she was ready, she escaped. To make a name for herself instead of being their creature.

When she started working for SHIELD, she'd looked for him. For the Winter Soldier. He was a myth, they said. Or a codename that couldn't be traced. It was a dead end. But he was real, and was the reason she was free. Even if, unrecognizing, he'd tried to kill her on several occasions, she owed him a debt. And she was going to pay it off.


	16. Calling Everybody Else's Girl

**Calling everybody else's girl, maybe one day she'll be her own**

There was no direct flight from Cairo into Wakanda. In fact, there were no commercial flights allowed into the country at all. Natasha flew as close as she could, then rented a car to complete the trip. Unsurprisingly, she was stopped at the border and figured her usual tactics would not allow access this time. So she gave them her real name and requested an audience with their king. This was irregular, and the border patrol regarded her suspiciously as they forwarded the message and waited for a response.

"The Dora Milaje will escort you," a guard eventually told her, followed by more waiting.

Finally, a car arrived and the woman Natasha remembered seeing in Berlin stepped out. She walked over and looked the Black Widow up and down carefully. "Come with me," she ordered, and Natasha obligingly followed her. The woman sat in the back with Natasha, while two more Dora Milaje were in the front. There was no speaking during the ride so she went over again what she was going to say.

When they arrived at what must be the palace, the three women surrounded her and took her inside to an anteroom down the hall to the left. It was small, holding only two couches and a table. Natasha had yet to be spoken to since the border and was struggling to keep down her nervousness. She had attacked the king of these people, which might call for justice instead of an audience with him. If it came to it, she would protect herself and hope not to incite an international incident.

Silently, the familiar Dora Milaje patted her down and confiscated her stingers and Widow's bites, making her feel exposed. She could handle herself without them, of course, but perhaps not against the women who were handpicked to protect their warrior king.

"What is your purpose here?" one of the women asked after she'd been stripped of her weaponry.

She shifted her weight slightly before answering. "I have … information I would like to give him."

"In exchange for what?"

"An audience."

Frowning slightly, the woman nodded. Then she exited the room, leaving Natasha with the other two warriors. She considered sitting down on one of the couches but decided it would be better to wait for an invitation. One that was unlikely to come.

After an interminable wait, the door opened and Natasha was relieved to see T'Challa, flanked by the woman who had left and another Dora Milaje. "Ms. Romanoff. What an unexpected pleasure," he greeted her without giving any indication about how he felt after their last encounter.

"King T'Challa."

"What brings you here?"

She cleared her throat when it suddenly felt like it wouldn't work. "I'm told Barnes is here. I'd like to see him."

"I'm afraid you are misinformed," he replied calmly.

Pressing her lips together, she looked at him earnestly. "I have … plans. Technical information. On what was done to him. I thought perhaps your people could use them to – to help," she explained haltingly.

He raised an eyebrow, not quite as distant and polite as he had been. "What is your relationship to him, Ms. Romanoff? Why did you let him escape?"

"I let St – Captain Rogers escape. Because it was the right thing to do. Which is also why I'm here. He deserves more than having to choose between a cryogenic tube and being hunted the world over."

Whether or not he was convinced was difficult to tell, but he nodded thoughtfully. "Come with me."

The four guards kept her away from their king as they made their way through the palace and into a laboratory of some kind. Natasha stopped up short, just for a moment, when she saw where the American was being kept. She'd seen a cryogenic chamber before. She'd seen what he was like when he came out. And went in. It was not a pleasant experience, so she was somewhat surprised to see how peaceful he looked. As they got closer, she was more surprised by the fact that his metal arm was missing.

"What happened to him?" she asked, motioning and managing to keep her tone neutral.

T'Challa glanced back at her, then toward a man in a lab coat who was approaching. "Your friend, Stark," he replied shortly in answer. "Ms. Romanoff has something for you," he continued, now addressing the man.

She held out the drive, which one of the Dora Milaje took and passed along. "It's all the files, including schematics of prototypes and pictures of working models, everything they had on what they did to his mind," she explained.

The scientist smiled at her. "Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. This will go a long way toward helping your friend," he said reassuringly.

A smile was her only response, and she was aware of T'Challa watching her. "Perhaps you would like us to wake him?" he asked after a pause, glancing at the other man for confirmation that this was possible.

"No!" She cleared her throat when everyone looked at her sharply. "That won't… That won't be necessary." They continued to stare, so she pressed on. "Perhaps… I could have a moment?"

T'Challa considered this, then nodded. "We will be outside when you are finished."

Surprised and touched by his understanding, Natasha watched them all file out, the Dora Milaje looking at her warningly before exiting after their king. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to the cryo tube. It wasn't like the one that Department X, that HYDRA had used. It was less… claustrophobic and imposing. Almost comfortable.

Barnes' expression was a mix between peaceful and resigned. She understood why he did this – if there was a string of words that could make anyone able to command her, she would also want to hide. And he'd looked so tired when she'd seen him. Had he gotten a decent night's sleep once in the last two years? He had clearly been taking better care of himself than HYDRA had, but not enough. Surviving was not the same as living.

Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to touch the cold glass. "I don't know how things will be when you wake up. I don't know if you'll remember. I don't know if Steve should know what you mean to me. You taught me that I could be more than a weapon. That there was more to life than being used for someone else's ends. I owe you for giving me a reason to leave the Red Room.

"But I'm the reason you were wiped the first time. The reason you needed those goddamned trigger words. So this is my fault and I'm going to do whatever I can to make up for it. You're the only one who knows what it's like, and I hope that, when you wake up… Maybe we can … be friends. We aren't who we used to be, not who we were then. So I know things aren't going to pick back up like they were. And I'm not sure I'd want them to.

"But I'm looking forward to meeting James Buchanan Barnes when you're free."

Taking a step back, she sniffed slightly then headed for the door. She had done what she set out to do, and now it was time to go back to work. After a polite and dignified farewell with T'Challa, she was escorted back to the border and got in her rented car. She had almost reached the airport when her phone rang.

"Romanoff."

"How's your Hindi?" Fury wanted to know.

"It's serviceable."

"Good. Pick up a ticket in Bengaluru under the name Nadira Chatterjee."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Natasha?"

"Yes?"

"Try to keep better track of everyone this time."

She smiled. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank your for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! This first part was Natasha's story, and I should have part 2 (Bucky-centric) ready to be posted in about a week. I hope to see you then!**


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